


I'm Watching You Disappear

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Minor Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-01
Updated: 2010-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident one summer makes Sam act rashly. He kisses his brother. They brush it off – as one of those things, a mistake, a chance thing, and move on. Sometimes – the world keeps handing you the same puzzle until you figure it out. (Character death is canonical, not Sam or Dean)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

-=2000=-

Sam ran straight toward the lake flinging a cloud of sand up behind him. He only stumbled once when he leaped over a piece of driftwood. He was faster now, he'd been working out for over a year, determined that for his eighteenth birthday he'd be muscular instead of a string bean. It wasn’t all muscle yet, but he was getting there. Wind milling his arms Sam took great leaps into the water, pulling his knees up as high as he could to try and outpace his brother. Diving forward into the water he pulled his arms back shooting forward into the cool blue of the lake.

Gasping out an almost surprised laugh Dean pumped his legs in attempt to catch up, inhaling deeply before diving swiftly forward. "Sammy," he coughed around a mouthful of water and glanced up at the bright early summer sun beating down on them. His eyes dropped back to the lack surface, pulling together in slight confusion as he sought out his brother's form. "Sammy?" He repeated slowly, shoulders tensing as he prepared himself for whatever came next.

Sam swam down along the bottom of the lake; lungs aching to pull in air but if he could ... just ... wait a few more moments. Sam's hands shot out and snatched a tight grip on Dean's ankles pulling them backwards to dump his brother face-first in the water. Kicking hard Sam shot up and broke through the surface of the water, sucking in a huge breath of fresh spring air.

Water burned into his lungs as Dean inhaled halfway through being pulled beneath the surface. For a moment a sharp spark of tight panic coursed through him before he kicked up and coughed loudly. "F-fuck," he spat, slamming a curled first into his chest and rounding on his brother. " _So_ dead," Dean stalked forward as much as possible through the water, arms extending to press against Sam's shoulders and push down _hard_.

Sucking in a deep breath Sam managed to close his mouth before Dean wrestled him down under the surface of the water. Twisting and kicking he managed to turn so he could wrap his legs around Dean's, climbing back up his brother's body to the air. When he finally managed to reach air he sucked in another deep breath and spat out a mouthful of water at Dean's face. Grinning, Sam shook his head vigorously - flinging water straight into Dean's eyes.

Dean groaned and splashed a large handful of water at his brother, eyes rolling in annoyance, "God that's gross." He dragged his hand down his face and shoved at Sam's chest, grinning before pushing up, sucking in a full breath and letting his body sink beneath the lake surface. Dean swam in the opposite direction, kicking as far out as possible before breaking the surface, turning to laugh at the tense form of his brother a good seven or eight feet away. "Thought I was gonna get you huh?" He called, legs kicking idly to stay afloat.

"Nah," Sam scrubbed at his face, enjoying the feel of the cool water. Dropping his hands he used them to paddle his way toward Dean, splashing water up behind him. "You're scared," Sam grinned, wet hair stuck to his face in wisps. "Big, scaredy chicken-ass brother." Sam paddled faster leaping up out of the water to try and get to Dean faster. As he jumped, his face suddenly crumpled into a look of pain, "Dean? Fuck," He stumbled forward and fell into the water, pain shooting along his foot and up his leg. Sputtering he fought his way up and held out his hand toward his older brother. "Dean... fuck. I need a hand."

In a flash the smile fell from Dean's face and he hurried forward as quickly as he could, scooping Sam up around the middle and tugging him toward the shore. "I got you, it's okay, hold on," Dean chanted automatically, shifting Sam in his arms as he stood and walked out of the water, arm looped under Sam's knees. "What happened?" Dean asked in a rush, setting Sam down on the towel along the shore and scooting back slightly to check him over.

"Stepped on somethin' _fucking_ sharp. S'deep, _Jesus_." Sam could see the blood pooling around the bottom of his foot. "Don't wreck the towel," the last thing Sam needed was Dad yelling at him for making a mess later. Things had been tense enough between them of late now that everyone knew that Sam wanted to go away to school. "Holy _shit_ that hurts," he muttered, actually starting to feel kind of queasy.

"Don't worry about it," Dean said quickly and slid down, bending behind him to grab his shirt and lay it across his thighs. Reaching out Dean curled his fingers carefully along Sam's heel and lifted up, flinching at the sight. "Glass. Gotta get it out Sammy, gonna do it quick okay?" Dean reached behind him once more and snatched his jacket, tossing it at Sam. "Bite down on that, try not to scream." The glass was in deep, too deep, and Dean could already tell the wound was going to need stitches.

Shaking a little Sam curled his fingers around the sleeve of the jacket. "D..Don't need to, not gonna scream." Dean was always assuming that Sam was somehow weaker, more likely to be the one who wasn't strong. His foot jolted in Dean's grasp when his brother poked gently at the side of the wound. " _Fuc-_ ," Sam snapped his mouth closed and let his head fall back, panting quickly through his nose. _Holy shit_ that hurt. "I don't wanna go to the hospital," Sam grunted.

"Can't anyway, Dad'll lose it," Dean murmured and bit at his lip. "Okay... on the count of three. One, two," Dean yanked the glass out, tightening his hold on Sam's heel to keep him in place, instantly pressing his shirt forward against the jagged wound. "Shit, it's pretty deep. Okay, just gonna tie it up, try and keep the pressure until we can get you home and fixed up." Wrapping the fabric tightly around his foot Dean tied a knot at the top.

It had hurt like hell when Dean pulled the glass out of his foot and the only reason Sam actually managed _not_ to scream was because his older brother surprised him with it. A typical sneak attack. "Dean?" Sam blinked down at his brother, vision swimming a little. "I... d..don't feel so good." Actually, he felt a lot like he was going to throw up or pass out - or something.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Dean shifted forward quickly and pushed up to his feet, bending down to lift his brother from the ground. Sam was constantly growing now-a-days, if it wasn't up then it was his muscles, forming and shaping, but thankfully Dean had four years on him, enough time to build some strength. "We're gonna get you home, alright?" Dean swallowed thickly, not likely the pale green note to Sam's skin. Even though he was just in his boxers, Dean half stepped into boots and left their stuff behind as he headed down the path. He'd come back for it later, it would be harder to try and carry Sam as dead weight if he passed out. "Keep talkin' for a few minutes 'kay, Sammy? We'll be there in no time."

"M'fine," Sam mumbled. "My pants, get-" Sam's hand moved to try and hold on to Dean's shoulder. "Don't leave your jacket." His foot was throbbing like all the blood was rushing back into it. "I... I can walk, Dean." Sam wriggled feebly, trying to kick his leg loose.

"Jesus, Sam, fuckin' chill okay?" Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You can't walk, that's no real bandage and you'd lose way too much blood. I'll come back for your shit now stop squirming so I don't _drop_ you," Dean grunted as Sam's good knee knocked into his chest.

"Don't leave your jacket." That jacket was pretty much the most important thing in Dean's life, next to his car. "Promise? I'm good." Sam actually rested his head on Dean's shoulder, _just_ for a moment. Not for long, just because it felt cool and stopped him feeling quite so ill. Being in pain really sucked and Sam wasn't sure that it was a good thing that pain was kind of shooting up the bone in the front of his leg.

Huffing out an annoyed puff of air Dean turned slowly and dropped his gaze to the towel Sam had just been on. Dean adjusted Sam in his arms, shifted and dropped enough to catch the leather on his foot and kick up. He caught the fabric on the second try and draped it over Sam's frame. "Happy?" He grunted and pulled Sam back against him as he started down the path once more. "Y'know, most people would be grateful," he grumbled, arms tight around Sam's body.

Sam nodded and clasped his hands together behind his brother's neck with the jacket firmly between his arms. It smelled like Dean. Couldn't leave it there. "Thanks," he murmured, lips moving against Dean's still-cool skin.

Dean's step faltered for a moment and he blinked slowly before continuing forward. His pace was quick enough that it only took five minutes to round the bend and spot their rented house up ahead. Part of him was relieved that their dad's truck wasn't in the driveway. At least this way he could patch him up and it would be nothing but an offhand thing to mention later on to the man, when he couldn't really get mad cause it was over. "Alright Sammy, gonna get it fixed up," he mumbled and shouldered the front door open, taking a few quick steps forward and setting Sam slowly down on the couch. "Don't move it too much okay?" Dean pushed up and headed swiftly to the first aid kit in the bathroom.

It wasn't the first injury he'd had to patch up; in fact Dean thought he might have a real knack for the art of sewing up wide gaping wounds. Still, the foot was a _really_ tender spot and Dean didn't envy him in the slightest. He headed back into the living room once he was sure he had everything he needed and dropped the supplies on the table. Staring at his brother for a moment Dean frowned before heading back into the kitchen, rifling through the cupboard and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. "Hey, Sam," Dean shook his shoulder slightly, kneeling beside him. "C'mon, gotta drink some of this to help okay?"

"Mmhmm," Sam's hand reached out and took the bottle moving it to his mouth quickly and tipping it up. It spilled over his chin as he coughed and sputtered trying to swallow. "Gaahh," Sam shook his head slowly, "burns," he murmured. He let his head flop back down on the couch and gazed up at his brother's face. "Gotta stitch it? Like you do for Dad?" Sam tried to keep the fear out of his voice but it wavered slightly.

Nodding slowly Dean shifted down the length of the couch, sliding the first aid kit along with him. Dean took a deep breath to steady his nerves, considering following it up with a swig of the whiskey before shaking his head and settling onto the edge of the couch. He propped Sam's foot up on his lap, using a pillow to pull it higher and flipped the first aid kid open. Unwrapping the shirt made Dean wince and Sam groan, sloshing another large gulp of whiskey. "It's gonna be fine, just a flesh wound," Dean insisted with a wavering smile and look at his brother before he snagged some gauze and padded at the cut.

It was about as deep as Dean feared it was and he prayed silently that Sam had sliced any vital tendons or something. _Fuck_ the stupid assholes who broke glass by the lake shore. It was enough to revise Dean's position on littering, and he snorted slightly. Sam moaned in frustration and Dean instantly bit back the noise, focusing in on the wound as he carefully cleaned little pebbles and dirt from the edges. Stitching it up was harder than he expected. It went right across the heel and Dean had to force his hand not to shake, needle resting an inch from the top. "Okay, brace yourself," he murmured softly and pressed the needle forward.

Sam hissed and instinctively pulled back from the pain but Dean held him fast, moving quickly now that he'd started. It only took a few minutes to cover the length of the wound before he was tying the string off and dropping the needle to the side. Grabbing more gauze he covered the area than wrapped it securely with an ace bandages, blowing out a low breath once it was tucked under the folds.

"All done," he said quietly and gently slid out from the pillow, dropping off the edge of the couch and crawling back up to his brother's head. Dean reached out and smoothed still damp bangs from Sam's temple, frowning at the slightly clammy skin. "Want some pain killers?" He asked softly, taking the bottle of whiskey from Sam's fingers.

Nodding, Sam's lips stayed pressed together in a thin line and his fingers curled over Dean's wrist as he took the bottle. "Th..that was shitty." Blinking a few times, he tried to focus on Dean. "Can I have some water?" Closing his eyes again, Sam tightened his grip on his brother's wrist.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and tugged on his wrist. Sam held it in place and he smiled slightly, "gonna need that." Sam looked at him blankly for a moment before Dean pried Sam's hand off and rose to quickly cross to the kitchen. He filled a glass of water and grabbed the bottle of pain killers before returning to Sam's side, pressing the glass against his palm and twisting the cap off the bottle. "Here," Dean pressed three pills between Sam's lips, fingers hesitating there for a moment before withdrawing.

Heat from the whiskey was already seeping into Sam's bones. Opening his mouth he rolled his head to smile at Dean and held his hand out for some more water. When Dean handed it to him he spilled it a little down his chin, swallowed enough to get the pills down then held the water out for Dean. His lashes fluttered for a few moments. "S'Dad coming home tonight?" Sam thought that his voice sounded like it was about a million miles away from his ears.

"Probably not," Dean set the water to the side and reached up to pull the blanket along the back of the couch over Sam, taking the coat and pressing it down beside him on the floor. "You should rest some; we'll get you changed and stuff later. Those pills will probably knock you out," Dean smiled softly and reached up to brush Sam's jaw, wiping away stray water.

Turning into his brother's hand, Sam smiled. His hand lifted again to curl lightly over the side of Dean's hand, fingers twisting the ever-present silver ring. "Do you miss Dad when he's gone?" Sam's voice was sleep-thick and quiet.

"Sure, got you though," Dean murmured softly, hoping the quiet tone would lure his brother into sleep mode. He didn't add the lingering _for now_ to his statement. Now wasn't the time to bring up Sam's rapidly approaching future. "Do you miss him?" Dean asked curiously, watching Sam's hand against his for a moment before looking back at his brother's features.

"Not like," Sam's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Dean, "not like I miss you when you’re gone." Sam's tongue moved over his bottom lip, tasting the lingering sharp tang of the whiskey. He dragged his thumb along the dark vein at Dean's wrist, brow furrowing slightly. "Our last summer together." Sam sighed, lifting his hand to hook his fingers over the collar of Dean's shirt.

Everything blurred for a moment when Sam's fingers touch the skin along the base of his neck and Dean frowns before shaking it off. Probably, likely, lingering fear and adrenaline. Sam being hurt was the one thing he feared most, the one thing that made letting him go off to college easier. "Yeah, than you're gonna make it big, go off and live some fantastic life," Dean sighed softly and wished the words hadn't sounded quite so bitter. He added, "it'll be great," to help with the tone and smiled briefly at him, dipping forward to gently bump their foreheads together.

All of a sudden there was more to the heat in Sam's body than just the whiskey. His hand tightened and twisted in the material of his brother's t-shirt. Licking his lips again, nervous, Sam could feel Dean's breath warm and moist against his own mouth. Tipping his chin up slightly, he brushed his lips along Dean's bottom lip, chest caving in as his shoulders curved forward. Dean didn't seem to move, so Sam just open his lips a little further, sliding them back and forth softly.

Sam's lips against his was more than hard for him to process. Dean was stuck on _Sam's lips_ and didn't even register the movements for a long beat. Then he was pulling back, staring at his brother in shock and opening his mouth to say something in protest. It got stuck on the tip of his tongue that, apparently, had other ideas in mind. Sam's lips were against his once more and Dean's, traitorous; tongue was brushing along Sam's lower lip. A small noise fell from Dean, somewhere between a groan and a gasp and he pressed harder forward, sliding his lips firm against Sam's.

Moaning softly Sam's fingers twisted tighter in the t-shirt. Things were still a little fuzzy for Sam but he knew already that he liked the taste of Dean far better than the taste of whiskey. Pushing his tongue forward Sam leaned back into the soft cushions and tugged Dean after him, tongue sliding forward to press forward into the heat of Dean's mouth.

Leaning forward, couch edge pressing hard into his chest, Dean met the gentle pass of Sam's tongue before pushing forward, sweeping along Sam's mouth. He chased away the bitter twinge of whiskey until he tasted only his brother, slightly sweet and pleasantly warm. Heat was sliding in waves down his back and Dean moaned into the kiss, hand pressing under the blanket to spread fingers wide across Sam's chest.

Arching up slightly Sam pulled back from the kiss for a moment, eyes brighter, focused on his brother's. His breath felt too quick, his heart thudding at a crazy pace in his chest. "Dean." Sam said it like a statement of fact as he reached over to tug on Dean's arm, pulling him up onto the sofa, and onto _him_. Sam had made out with girls from school, and Carrie-Anne down the street, but Dean's lips were different. Thick and soft, smooth and warm, Sam lifted his fingers to run them along the swollen flesh.

"We uh..." Dean stumbled on whatever protest he'd been attempting to form as his body rested over Sam's. When his brother's finger dropped slightly Dean dipped down and reclaimed his lips once more, pressing hard into the kiss. He shifted and tugged until the blanket separating them slid away and their hips came together. Sam was hard, pressing up into Dean and he moaned into the kiss as their cocks slid together through two thin layers of swimming trunks. He shifted his legs to ensure Sam's damaged foot wasn't in harm’s way before rocking forward slightly, sucking Sam's tongue into his mouth.

Sam sucked in a breath, or tried to; he managed to drag it into his lungs in fits and starts. Soft keening sounds floated up out of him into the kiss, and Sam shifted against Dean because _God_ feeling that hard line pressing against him was hot. The smallest part of his mind was trying to get attention, wondering what the _hell_ was going on. The rest of his mind was somewhere closer to thinking it was hot, and felt _fucking_ good and his hands just slid over Dean's back, pressing, pulling, tugging. _Closer - more_.

Dean's lips dropped to suck along Sam's neck, tasting the salty mix of his brother and lake water. His hips were rolling persistently against Sam's, building up the friction and pressure until he thought he might just snap if he didn't _touch_. Dean shifted to bring his hand down but his leg jutted out and skidded hard across Sam's calf, pressing the injured foot hard into the sofa. Sam hissed in pain and the moment shattered around Dean in a flash. "Oh shit," he gasped and jumped up, stumbling off his brother's body, leg smacking into the coffee table and sending him crashing down hard on his ass. " _Fuck_ ," he groaned and flopped back, panting heavily as he struggled with the heat over his senses.

Sam's eyes widened as he panted softly, pain all mixed up with pleasure and producing a subtle tremble all down his body. "Dean..." His eyes darted down to his brother's, brows drawn together in confusion. "That... we..." Sam's expression softened and he blinked rapidly for a few moments. "I'm sorry." He lifted his hand to his eyes, pressing down hard.

Pushing himself up until he was sitting, Dean shook his head, "nah don't... I mean... it was just a thing yeah?" It certainly felt a little more than just a _thing_ but how the hell else could they explain this? "We were... just talking about last summer and all and..." Dean swallowed a few times and shifted slowly forward. "But we're cool yeah? I mean, it was just... uh... experimenting. And uh... we're good?" Dean was itching with the desire to get out of the room, get some fresh air and clear his head because Sam's bare chest was still looking _far_ too tempting.

"Yeah, my foot - and I probably shouldn't have had the whiskey." There was something wrong with Sam's heart. It was aching like he's just made some really stupid decision. Dragging his hand down his face Sam blew out a breath. "We're good," he nodded and smiled but it disappeared too quickly from his face. He didn't feel good, well, he had, then he didn’t. Clearing his throat Sam turned his head to face the back of the couch.

Hovering by the couch, Dean's hand extended, tempted to touch and he frowned, "I uh... gonna go get the stuff by the lake. Get some sleep yeah?" His hand closed the distance and slid through Sam's hair slowly. Against his better judgment Dean dipped down and pressed a kiss just beneath his ear. "I'll be fast," he whispered before pushing up and heading for the door.

"Okay," Sam murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. As soon as he heard Dean leave Sam reached up to touch the still tingling skin where his brother's lips had just been. Yeah, it was just a thing.

-=2005=-

The hint of a breeze caught the lapel of Dean's jacket as he stepped out of his car, kicking the door shut behind him. The street was nice, white buildings adorned with what Dean would consider the stereotypical California decorations. Palm trees lined the walk and Dean couldn’t help smirking. The fact that Sam settled down in his own little suburb was fairly amusing. It seemed like a place Sam would like, and it looked almost exactly how he described it on the phone. Clutching the bottle of wine in his hand Dean crossed the street and followed the apartment numbers, up a flight of stairs until he stood in front of Sam's door. Dean glanced down at the wine and wondered briefly if it was a weird gesture. What else was he supposed to bring his brother though? Somehow a bottle of Holy Water didn't seem touching enough. Shrugging it off Dean lifted his fist and knocked three times in quick succession, tapping the wooden surface and half turning to peer our across the street.

Rolling off the couch onto his bare feet Sam padded over to the door. "I got it..." he called out in the general direction of the bedroom. He stuck his pen in between his teeth and tried to keep his page in _American Law in the 20th Century_. Yanking the door open Sam almost dropped his text and looked up from under his hair. "Dean?" He mumbled around the pen.

Spinning around Dean grinned brightly and laughed, "Sammy! Hey." He fleetingly wondered if he should have called, Sam looked _really_ surprised, and he shuffled slightly in spot. "Uh... surprise?" Dean's head tilted slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes as Sam fumbled with his textbook.

Looking down at the book then back up at Dean Sam dropped it on the floor and snatched the pen out of his mouth. "Dean." His face split into a wide smile, eyes softening. It had been over a year since they'd managed to get together; sure they talked on the phone but it wasn't the same as seeing Dean right there. Stepping forward Sam threw his arms around Dean's neck. " _God_ , Dean, it's good to see you." Burying his nose for a moment in Dean's neck, Sam huffed out a small laugh and slapped his hand a few times on Dean's shoulder blade.

Sucking in a lungful of Sam's scent, Dean squeezed him tightly, laughing softly. "Damn dude, have you grown _more_? Is that even _possible_?" Dean pulled back slightly, one hand curving around Sam's neck. "God it's good to see you, look at this tan, you look fuckin'-"

"Sam?" A curious voice said from just inside the apartment, smile wide. "Dean? Is this your brother, Dean?"

Laughing, Sam shook his head and stepped back. "Come in," he said, "come in. Yeah..." Shaking his head slowly, he turned to Jess and ran a hand through his hair. "Jess, this is my brother Dean." He held his hand out and turned back to Dean. "Dean, this is my..." Sam's brow furrowed fleetingly, "girlfriend, Jess - Jessica." Chuckling nervously he added, "Jess," once more.

"Nice to meet you, Dean, I've heard so much about you," Jess grinned as she stepped back to make room for them.

Dean's smile wavered for a moment before returning and he followed Sam's step forward, "nice to meet you too. I uh... can't say I've heard much about you." Dean gave his brother a quick look before holding out the bottle. "Um, I brought this. It was a thank you gift from this guy who's daughter was po-" Dean cut off sharply and coughed, "I helped them out."

"Wow, thank you," Jess beamed as she took the bottle. "Can I get you anything to drink Dean? Sam, want anything?"

"Water's fine for me," Dean nodded swiftly and swept his gaze slowly around his brother's apartment.

"I..." Sam blinked, smiled growing and fading and _Jesus_ , Dean, right here. "Yeah, I'd love a beer, Jess. You sure you don't want one, Dean? God - how long has it been since we saw each other?" It felt like about twenty expressions were fighting for a position on Sam's face and he finally reached his hand up to drag it down his jaw. "Wow."

Dean stared at his brother for a long moment, heart doing the strange clenching thing it did whenever he thought of Sam a certain way. "Uh, you know what, I think I'll take that beer, thanks Jess," Dean turned his eyes to Jess with a smile.

"Sure, I'll be right back, make yourself at home," Jess nodded and turned to head down the hall to the kitchen.

"So, she seems nice, been together long?" Dean asked Sam, adding the extra silent, _and why didn't you tell me about her?_

Sam took a few steps back and turned, gesturing for Dean to come into the living room and sit down. "Maybe almost eight months. She's ... she's great." Sam nodded and looked down, crooked grin plastered on his face. "We, well, yeah..." his voice softened and he tilted his head to the side. "Listen," Glancing quickly over his shoulder Sam turned back to Dean, eyes wide. "I didn't say anything because this... this...this thing," he gestured between the two of them. "Me and you, it ..." He didn't want to hurt Dean. He didn't want to hurt himself. The longer that he'd been able to pretend that _Dean and Sam_ were a completely different reality from _Sam and Jess_ it was just easier to believe everything was as it should be.

"Eight months?" Dean repeated slowly and rubbed at his chin. He had to have spoken to Sam more than a dozen times in the last eight months and there hadn't been a single _word_ about someone else. Not that he and Sam were exclusive. Or _anything_ at all. Because they _really_ weren't but memories lingered and Dean possibly spent too much time thinking about them. "Hey I," Dean glanced up at him and pushed a smile up along his lips. "That's... it's good Sam... you know... um... you seem happy and I'm..."

"I am. Happy," Sam looked over and smiled. "It's just - like the past..."

"No it's... you know it was just..."

"'Cause it couldn't be something, I mean..."

"We were really close and it just happened so..."

"I didn't want to hurt... us." Sam stared into Dean's eyes.

"Here you boys go," Jess said as she entered the room, offering a beer to each brother and grinning.

Dean's eyes lingered on Sam for a moment before turning to Jess and smiling, taking the beer, "thanks Jess. I hope I'm not interrupting some plans, I would have called if..." Dean glanced from Jess to Sam before shrugging and bringing the beer to his lips, Sam's words echoing around his head slowly.

"Thanks." Sam took the beer and took a long pull on the bottle. His heart was flipping around in his chest like a goldfish and there was a kind of sour taste in the back of his throat. "I was just studying," Sam finally realized there was a question hanging there. "I mean, that's all I was gonna do this evening we could go out for beer or get dinner or something." Blinking up at Jess, Sam automatically reached over to brush her hair off her shoulder.

Smiling Jess shifted over to squeeze in between Sam and the edge of the couch, "you guys should go out, catch up and all. I could call up the girls and see what's going on."

Dean wasn't too pleased with the pinch of jealousy in his heart and he took another long sip from his beer bottle. He was happy for Sam. _Really_ happy for him. This was the kind of life he deserved, law school, nice place, pretty girl; it was all Dean had hoped his brother would get to have. "Yeah, whatever you want, I'm cool. If you need to study Sam we can get dinner tomorrow or something, got a motel across town for the night." Dean's eyes drifted around the living room, taking in the homey feel, pictures of the couple, friends, and a whole world Dean couldn't really comprehend.

"I don't have to study, God, Dean." Sam wanted to spend some time with his brother. He laughed, nervous and skittish, hand settling on Jess' thigh. "You hungry now? We could head out for a meal and then grab a few beers, play some pool?" Sam smiled at his brother, mind automatically going back to that last summer they were together. He still had a scar on the bottom of his foot. "Jess won't mind, will you hon?"

"Of course not," Jess smiled warmly at Sam and slid a hand through his hair. "Not every day your mysterious brother Dean comes to town. But you should stay the night, at least in your motel, so you can come by tomorrow and I can pester you with questions about Sam as a kid," she laughed softly and laid her head on Sam's shoulder.

Though the pinch of jealousy was still there Dean's heart warmed slightly. Clearly the girl cared for his brother and that was important. "Yeah, definitely. I'll tell you all about how he _always_ took the last of the Lucky Charms and used to carry around his stuffed teddy bear until he was like, six." Dean grinned at Sam and lifted his beer to drain the contents.

Chuckling, Sam felt a warmth bloom across his cheek bones. No one knew him like his brother did. Slamming his beer down on the coffee table a little too hard, Sam jumped and stood up quickly. "I'll just change out of my sweats." He paused there for a moment then clapped his hands together and bolted off down the hallway.

Both Dean and Jess watched him go and Dean smiled fondly until he met Jess' eyes and realized she had that same fond look. Coughing slightly Dean looked down and slid his fingers along the cool leather of his arm. "So Dean, tell me," Jess slid closer to him, smiling softly, "how's your Dad?"

Dean wasn't certain what he'd been expecting as far as questions went; this definitely was furthest from his mind. "My uh... Dad?" He looked at her and shrugged, "he's, you know... actually, do you know?"

Jess laughed, head tilting back slightly. Blond hair slid over her shoulder and Dean forced his eyes to stay above the chin. Checking out his brother's girlfriend was just about as bad as checking out his brother's ass when he walked away. Which Dean definitely _didn't_ do. "Dean?" Jess asked quietly and reached out to touch his arm.

Flushing as he realized Jess had been speaking to him and he'd completely zoned out, Dean looked up, "what? Sorry, I... long drive. And uh, honestly? It's a bit of a surprise to see you."

"Sam didn't mention me at all?" Jess asked curiously.

Dean kind of wanted to kick himself when he watched a flash of hurt across her eyes, "oh no, he... you know we don't talk all that often. And it's always brief. I'm sure he said he was seeing someone, uh, you, but I'm kind of - I have a lot on my plate usually." Dean shrugged, hoping he hadn't just gotten Sam in trouble with his girl. Dean made a mental note to give Sam a head's up later then pressed forward, "He seems really happy. You... you guys must be really good together."

"I like to think so," Jess smiled and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. "I'm really glad you came to see him. He talks about you all the time, always so fondly, I know he misses you a lot."

Looking down Dean pressed his fingers hard against the beer bottle, a small smile playing across his lips. "Yeah? I miss him too. _A lot_. But it's good to know he's happy. Makes it easier..."

Jess looked at him for a long moment, Dean could feel her curious eyes, and then said softly, "you should come see him more. Maybe you can work around here? I'm sure he'd be happy to have you around all the time."

Dean wished it was that easy, on a lot of levels. The truth was, he and Sam hadn't spent a lot of time together since that last summer, and most of those weeks had been filled with a different, indescribable tension. Always the suggestion that _more_ could happen at any moment and neither would be strong enough to stop it a second time around. Dean tried to tell himself he was past that but... "My job kind of requires me to travel," Dean said quietly, sadly, and gave her a brief smile.

"And what is it you do again? Sam never really said," Jess smiled once more, looking curiously at him.

"You know," Sam interjected, "the family business." Sam picked up his beer and ran his hand over the front of his t-shirt, smoothing it down. "Let's go, Dean. There's this awesome diner about fifteen minutes away - and," Sam's eyes moved down shyly to his brother's, "I wanna ride in the Impala." Some of Sam's best and worst memories were in that damn car, but regardless of the sentiment it was _Dean_ to him.

Pushing up from the couch Dean grinned and pulled his keys from his pocket, "nice to meet you Jess."

"Come around tomorrow," Jess insisted, standing as well and stepping in to press a kiss to his cheek. "You're just as great as Sam said," she laughed softly and turned to her boyfriend, stepping into his warmth. "I'm gonna go out with some of the girls but I'm sure I'll be home before you two so be quiet," she grinned at him brightly, hand curving around his arm.

Smoothing his hand over Jess' hair, Sam ducked down and pressed his lips to hers. "Thanks, Jess," he murmured, "love you. Don't go to sleep without me?" He grinned, rubbed the tip of his nose to hers and stepped back when she nodded. "Okay," stepping back Sam ran his hand through his hair again - a nervous gesture, his hands were actually shaking a little. "Let's go." He tilted his chin up at Dean.

Dean was already mostly toward the door when Sam spoke and he nodded, called a goodbye before stepping outdoors. Not that he couldn't handle Sam _with_ someone but there was no reason to watch any affection between the two. They headed across the street to the Impala and Dean couldn't help grinning as Sam ran an appreciative hand across the hood in a silent greeting. The drive to the dinner was oddly quiet, only filled by the song on the radio - Dean would never be able to name it later when he thought back on the visit - and Sam's occasional directions.

The diner was quaint, clearly more of a college type atmosphere with the random elderly couple that looked oddly comfortable amongst the students. Dean followed Sam to a booth in the back and they both stalled by perusing the menu. A waitress approached them within minutes, smiled a greeting and took both their orders before heading off, leaving Dean to wrack his brain for a way to calm the weird vibe between them. "Classes good?" He started off on solid territory, folding his fingers together on the table top.

"Yeah," Sam frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "I'm taking some pre-law stuff; it's pretty interesting, hard work." Sam nodded slowly, "I study a lot." His eyes moved up to Dean's face. His brother looked a little older, and tired, really tired. "You still hunting? Working too many jobs?" Sam's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

With a shrug and a faint chuckle Dean said, "Well you know, always too many jobs." There was probably more to it than that but Dean resolutely never thought of those things. "Been driving a lot as usual. Swung by Bobby's a few weeks ago to give Baby an overhaul. He asked after you, told him I'd say hi, so... there's that," Dean smiled, glancing up at the waitress as she set their sodas down before departing.

"You seein' anyone?" Sam hadn't meant to blurt it out but it was right there lurking. He winced, looking down at his soda and tracing a finger through the condensation on the glass. Stretching his legs out, without even thinking Sam caught Dean's ankles between his. They'd always sat like that, it was one of those _Sam and Dean_ things. He stiffened a little when he realized what he had done, but relaxed in a few moments when Dean didn't move.

Staring at his brother for a moments Dean coughed then turned his gaze out the window. "Nah. You know how it goes, never really anywhere long enough. I see people when the urge comes." Dean half smirked and shrugged, rubbing along the back of his neck. "I'd be a shit boyfriend anyway, all secrets. Not exactly the best relationship material. You though. You've got Jess and things seem... serious? You think you might..." Dean couldn't finish the sentence, the word _propose_ felt weird and uncomfortable on his tongue.

"Oh, I... yeah," Sam smiled again, wrinkling his nose. "She's real sweet and I love her. I do. Love her." His expression softened as he thought about the time he and Jess had spent getting to know each other. Taking a sip of his soda, Sam bought himself a little time to think. "Dean," he put the glass back down on the table. "It's just that we moved on ya know?" It was hanging there like a big cloud between them, the road not taken. A different road didn't mean the other path wasn't still there.

Dean's smile dipped for a moment and he nodded before forcing it to return until it felt more natural. "I... yeah. You know, it's good. That you have her. And you're happy." Dean felt like he'd said the _Sam's happy_ line so many times today it was like he was trying to convince himself. Some part of him possibly was but that went into the _don't think about it_ category. "We all get roads right? If you're satisfied with the one you're on then... that's what matters." Dean dropped his gaze to his soda and pulled it forward for a long drink.

Sam nodded again. "I wish you-" He took a deep breath. "I wish you'd find another road." He tilted his head a little, rolling his bottom lip under his front teeth. Knowing that Dean was with someone would make everything had the right ending. Looking down at his soda, Sam watched the bubbles on the surface, appearing then popping.

"Ah well, you know how it goes. Someone has to be there to watch Dad's back," Dean shrugged then flinched as his words sank in. "I didn't mean... I'm not saying you..." Dean sighed and shook his head, laughing softly. "Shit, we used to be a lot better at this huh?" Dean rubbed along the back of his neck, glancing up at his brother. "I'm not _unhappy_ Sam. Sure, sometimes it sucks, but I'm... I'm good at this. I feel good helping people. It's what I know."

Sam squeezed Dean's ankles with his, smiling. "You're a good hunter, you save a lot of people." Sam had always been proud, felt a little bit safer knowing the Dean was out there. "I should have told you about Jess." Dragging his eyes from Dean's he looked back down at the table. "I guess I didn't like what it meant."

Frowning slightly Dean nodded, "yeah it's..." Dean didn't really know what it was, too far beyond their reach at this point anyway. "Like you said, we moved on. Don't worry; I can handle you telling me about her. I'm happy for you." He nodded once more and reached across the table to grasp Sam's hand, squeezing once before loosening his grip.

"Didn't mean you couldn't... fuck…" Sam wished for about the thousandth time that they had talked it out at some point instead of taking a page from their Dad's book and just ignoring it. "Anyway," Sam dragged his hand down his face. "Tell me about Dad. Is he okay?"

"He's," Dean thought for a moment and chuckled softly. "He's Dad, Sam. His usual, disappearing for weeks without returning calls. He's asked about you but besides saying you're doing good, I don't give much. I've told him to call but..." Dean shrugged and gave Sam a knowing smile. "He'll always be that way I'm sure. Haven't seen him for almost... damn... almost a year. I think he's got something going on but who can say right?"

Some of the tension left once their food arrived. It had never been all that difficult for Sam and Dean to fall into their old patterns. Soon enough Dean was stealing food off Sam's plate, Sam was kicking his big brother's ankle under the table and they were talking about some of the hunts that Dean had been on. Sam didn't want to talk about school. School was school, it touched almost every part of Sam's life and Dean was his _other_ life. They laughed, full and long, Sam wiping his eyes while Dean leaned forward onto the table to try and get Sam choking on his pop. As usual, it was like they'd never been apart.

They paid for dinner and wandered back to the car. Dean tossed the keys to Sam and told him that he'd kick his ass if he got in an accident. It pleased both Winchesters when Sam slid behind the wheel and brought the engine roaring to life. Sam took his brother to his favourite pub. It was off campus, no student in sight and Dean instantly realized that it must remind Sam of their days on the road. They ordered a couple of beers at the bar and wandered over to the only free pool table to rack up a game.

"So uh..." Dean began, and had a question in mind but Sam bending over the pool table to break made things filter weirdly and he turned away, annoyed with himself for being so easily distracted. "Hey what's the scar like on your foot? I always wondered how the coloring would change on such a weird place to get cut," Dean smiled fondly, leaning back against the table and spinning the pool stick between his fingers. His mind provided an almost instant repeat of that moment, the pain on Sam's face, the way he'd curled into Dean as he carried him.

"Hard to see now." Sam chalked the end of his cue. "S'just this thin while line right across my heel. Guess you were a good doctor after all." Sam liked the scar, it was the only way he knew that day was real and not something he dreamed or made up somehow. It was oddly reassuring. "You probably got a lot more scars now, I guess." He worried about Dean, even if he didn't call him nearly as often as he thought he should. It was just ... hard.

"A fair few," Dean nodded and chuckled softly, stepping up to take his turn once Sam slid back. Sinking the six ball Dean tilted his back and turned his side to Sam, lifting his shirt to show the jagged scar that circled around his side and back. "Check this one out, got it... oh, last year some time," Dean shrugged and pressed his finger on the discoloured skin.

"Jesus _Christ_." Sam's fingers were on the scar almost instantly, tracing the jagged edge of the skin. "What happened?" His voice quieted and he leaned his side against the pool table.

Sighing softly Dean watched as he dropped the shirt and let it flutter down to his waist line. "Pissed of a ghoul, it threw me across this warehouse. Thankfully I didn't puncture anything but _fuck_ it was painful. Remember when I called you that one time, you thought I was drunk 'cause I babbled and stuff?" Dean laughed and bent for a second shot, "Pain killers. Pretty brutal."

"You're by yourself most of the time when you're hunting, yeah?" Sam reached out and tugged his brother's shirt back down without even thinking. He huffed out a small laugh and reached over to the table to grab his beer.

Dean's eyebrow arched slightly as he considered his brother. "Uh, yeah Sam, not exactly like Hunters are just volunteering to partner up. M'fine though, that's the worst one. Let my guard slip. It's your go," Dean gestured to the table and slid back to grab his beer.

Sam grabbed his cue and turned lining up the cue, ball and pocket. Walking to the end of the table he leaned down, stretching forward and sinking the ball easily. "So you gonna do that your whole life?" He stepped on Dean's foot deliberately when he walked past him, smirking. Bending down he made another simple shot then managed to miss a bank shot by just a fraction of an inch. "Damnit," he muttered.

Rolling his eyes Dean whacked Sam in the calf with the end of the stick as he circled the table and bent at the waist, "what else would I do?" He glanced up at Sam before taking the shot and smiling when his ball sank into the side pocket. "You gonna marry Jess?" Dean hadn't meant to flat out say it like that but he wanted to know, _needed_ to know, and laying it out there was the easiest way. He missed the second shot and frowned, turning away to lean a hip against the side of the table.

"If she'll have me, yeah, I think so." Sam flashed a grin at his brother. He leaned hands on the side of the table for a few moments, looking down at the green felt. "She gets me... sounds stupid but it's like she _knows_ I'm different somehow and just lets me be who I am. No questions ... just," Sam shrugged. There was a lot about his life that Jess didn't know, but that was yet another way he kept things separate, apart. _Before_ and _after_. If things had been different... but they weren’t.

Dean's heart clenched painfully and he stared at the ground for a long moment before pulling himself back from the tidal wave of conflicting emotions. "That's... great Sam," Dean nodded and walked back around to reclaim his beer, draining it in several long swallows. "She'd be crazy not to say yes," he added quietly and coughed before stepping back to the table and forcing a smile, "my turn? Should I finish kicking your ass?"

"You'll come and be my best man right?" Sam's eyes widened as the enormity of it all kind of pressed him down against the ground. "I... I can't do it unless..." He blinked furiously, driving off the tears that were stinging his eyes. It felt entirely too much more like an end than a beginning.

"Yeah, yeah of course man, I wouldn't miss that," Dean nodded quickly and clapped a hand down on Sam's shoulder, curving over the muscle and squeezing softly. "You just... let me know." He dropped his hand to pat Sam's back, lingering there for a moment before stepping back.”You want another beer? I'm gonna get one."

Sam turned away for a few moments, nodding, "yeah," his voice was too thick, "yeah that'd be great."

Dean bee lined for the bar, leaning heavily against it until the bar tender slid over, offering the two bottles in his hand. For awhile Dean just stared at them, forcing things to straighten out in his mind. He needed to get a grasp on this situation, not ruin the small amount of time with his brother. Turning slowly Dean watched his brother by the pool table, swallowing around the _want_ that had always lingered just under the surface. Shaking his head Dean carried the bottles over, offering Sam's out to him, "here, we can toast to your happiness." Dean smiled slightly, lifting his shoulder in a shrug.

Taking the beer, Sam pressed his lips together into a slight smile. "To _our_..." Sam's eyes locked with his brother's, "happiness." He clinked the top of his bottle against Dean's, heart feeling a little heavier than it should have.

"Right," Dean nodded and looked away, pulling long and hard from the bottle. "Sam I'm not really..." Dean looked back at him for a second, searching his eyes for some flicker of something to cling too. Forcing a laugh Dean shook his head and turned away, reclaiming his pool stick and walking around the edge of the table. "Should we put money on this? Bet I could sink them all," he bent over the table, lining up for the shot.

Sam was sometimes really angry that the world was the way it was, or that, he and Dean were brothers - even though he couldn't imagine _not_ having him as a brother. But - it was just ... _unfair_. Walking over to his brother Sam pulled out his wallet and tossed a fifty on the table. "Okay do it, sink 'em all." Turning, Sam lifted his hand and curled his fingers over the back of his brother's neck. He thumb rubbed against Dean's warmth. "I know," he murmured, "I... it's the same for me." A slight squeeze and Sam walked back to the other end of the table. It was just _unfair_.

Sighing softly, Dean shook his head before taking the shot. He sank three in a row and scratched the fourth, dropping the pool stick down onto the table and curling his fingers over the money. "Guess I'm not so good," he whispered and stepped up to Sam, bringing their hands together and palming the money between his fingers. "We should head out," his eyes met Sam's for a moment, less than a foot between them before he stepped back and rolled his shoulders.

They headed out of the bar in silence and Dean wished he could change things between them, the good and the bad way. He wanted to _be_ with Sam. But it was impossible to miss the way Sam felt about Jess. And Dean would take being a part of Sam's life over nothing at all so he could settle. They arrived at Sam's place and the street was quiet, houses dark in the late hour. Dean stared out the windshield, fingers curling around the wheel, "you... it'd probably be weird to walk you to the door." Dean laughed softly and shook his head. "You still want me to swing by tomorrow? Or... would it be better if I just went on my way?" Dean turned slightly to look at his brother, studying his profile in the street light.

It made Sam feel a little sick, and a lot sad to hear the tone of his brother's voice. Affection laced with sadness; it was the way they spoke to one another now. "Probably..." Sam had to push the word out, "better. But, please, can we stay in touch? It's important. It's ... you're really important to me." Sam couldn't look over at his brother so he stared straight ahead, the familiar view of the polished dashboard, the streetlights glinting off the dark paint of the hood.

Turning his gaze away from Sam, Dean tried to ignore the way his heart sank and nodded slowly, "of course Sam. You... you're... just call whenever." Dean's fingers tightened once more on the steering wheel and he turned his head to peer out the side window in case some of the way he was feeling was too clear on his face. "Tell Jess sorry. About not coming by tomorrow. Next time," he shrugged and dropped his hands from the wheel. "Take care Sam."

Sam rubbed his palms on his jeans and looked back at his brother, "Dean?"

Blowing out a slow breath Dean hesitated for a moment before turning toward him. "Yeah?" From this angle a beam from the street lamp was cutting through and illuminating half of Sam's sun kissed face. His eyes almost glowed and Dean's heart did that weird fluttery thing it had taken up doing for the last few years.

Leaning forward quickly, not sure if he were more afraid that Dean would push him away or that he would suddenly regret his own decision - Sam pressed his lips over his brother's, gentle, lingering then pulled back just enough to whisper. "I love you." Then he was out of the car and racing up the sidewalk, heart thundering and aching.

With a soft groan Dean brought his fingers to his lips, watching his brother disappear into the apartment building. Sighing heavily he let his head drop onto the steering wheel. Dean had thought it before, but this only made him more sure, sometimes, Dean's life _sucked_.

Sam tore up the path feeling, ironically, like the devil himself was behind him. After all, this was Sam's own private hell - knowing how things _could_ have been if the world were different. But, if he'd learned anything from his brother it was that he couldn't survive on _could-have-beens_. It took a few moments of fumbling with his keys to get the door open and he shut it behind him with a sigh not even bothering to kick his boots off before calling out, "Jess?" He listened for the usual sounds of the TV, something moving in the kitchen. "Jess, honey?"

Moving down the hall toward the bedroom Sam smiled. She'd probably given up waiting and gone to bed. Pushing the bedroom door open he stepped into the room eyes flitting over the still made bed. "Jess?" He'd never be able to tell anyone later why his eyes moved the way they did, if he'd cared enough to wonder more he might have realized it was all those years of hunting with his father and brother. _Instinct_.

It wasn't instinct that made Sam fall back onto the floor, it was horror. Jess' body was somehow - pinned to the ceiling and looking at it - even though he was completely unable to process what was happening, there was something about the angles of her limbs, her body that was all _wrong_. Sam screamed her name, pushing to try and regain his feet and stumbling against the bed. He stared up at her almost lifeless eyes, the way her hair framed her head like some kind of blond silk shadow. "Jess," he whispered.

The instant the last of her name was swallowed up in the otherwise silent room her body was engulfed in flames. The howl of pain that filled the room was Sam's ... Jess was long gone - his brain was trying to tell him that even as he crawled up onto the bed trying to reach her. Heat flared down at him, almost alive, flames spilling across the ceiling. Unnaturally fast, the fire flooded across the ceiling. Sam could feel the heat burning at his face but was barely able to understand what was happening. He had jumped toward Jess - it was stupid - but he had to do something. Even at Sam's height there was no way he could reach her... he only succeeded in sinking his arm up to the elbow in the roaring heat of the fire. Crumpling to the ground he could already hear the sounds of the structure giving out, creaking and snapping, the sounds of everything giving way. He couldn't leave her. His body was still moving, trying somehow to figure out a route toward Jess when the ceiling gave way. Instinctively, Sam drew back, trying to reach an escape but not soon enough.

The scream had been quiet from inside the car, through walls, but Dean's senses were always more alert than the average persons. He was out of the car before the fire even started, kicking the door in as smoke billowed down the hallway. "Sam!" He yelled and bolted through the apartment, easily following the trail even as the smoke intensified and heat rose. Dean spun around the corner and drew back slightly as the fire burned against his retinas. "Sam!" Dean yelled once more and forced himself forward, bursting into the room.

Sam was either in shock or screaming, Dean's brain was playing on overload and couldn't process much more besides _Sam_ and _danger_. "C'mon Sammy, c'mon," he grabbed his brother around the waist and pulled him swiftly from the room, down the hall, out of the apartment before the entire thing could be consumed with flames. He could feel Sam shaking against him and he gasped in cool oxygen as they dropped down onto the front lawn.


	2. Chapter 2

How they got from one place to the next Dean wasn't entirely certain. It passed in an odd blur, the night sky seeming far too dark in comparison to the white hot of the fire of moments before. Sam against his side, curled together, blacking out from pain. People were rushing over, sirens and flashing lights and Dean could feel them trying to take his brother away. He was quick to follow though, the one thing he could clearly grasp despite everything. _Sam_. _Can't leave his side._ He only had to explain around a cough that this was his brother and they let him climb in the ambulance.

Dean took the oxygen mask they offered because someone pressed it hard into his hand and it seemed he had no other choice. His eyes were fixed on his brother on the gurney, Sam's body limp and lifeless outside the gentle shaky rise of his chest. There was a gash on the left side of his face and the paramedics were rushing about to clean the skin, press in gauze, hook IV's.

 _What was his name?_ Dean. He registered the question, barely managed an answer. _What was his brother's name?_ Sam. Sammy. _His_ Sammy looking far too broken on stark white, clothes singed and frayed at the edges, stained with soot and blood. Dean's stomach churned. _Was Sam allergic to anything?_ No. And Dean had gasped and grabbed the woman's hand and pleaded with her to fix his brother, to make sure he was going to be okay.

"We'll do what we can," she insisted quietly and let him be, returning to her paperwork.

It wasn't enough reassurance for Dean, _do what we can_ would never be enough to settle the fear burning in him. Dean could smell smoke and flesh and his mind flashed with countless corpses he'd soaked liberally with gasoline and salt, matches dragged along the side of a box to spark flame and consume. Sam's smile, dimples and all, the warmth of a laugh, their legs hooked together beneath the dinner table just a few short hours ago. The images mixed and churned, Dean barely had time to pull the oxygen mask away before he was turning and emptying his stomach of its contents into a bucket to the right of him.

A small hand rested between his shoulder blades, rubbing softly, and Dean's mind sparked. _Jess_. _Oh god_. "There was... in the apartment... Jess, his... Sam's girl..." he turned toward the paramedics surrounding his brother, the one to the left of him.

They shared glances and Dean _knew_. That was why Sam hadn't left when the fire began, why he'd been there on the bed. Dean knew his instincts were better than that. _Fuck_. This was what he would have to tell his brother when he woke; this was the horrible truth Sam would be faced with. Dean's heart clenched in pain for the man and Dean spun to the side, throwing up once more.

Everything from there was more of a haze than before. The hospital lights were too white, too bright, _no_ Dean didn't need someone to look him over, _yes_ he wanted to go into surgery with Sam. They wouldn't let him though, of course not, and Dean was stuck in the waiting room, pacing around the lines of chair. Minutes, hours, days possibly ticked by. Dean couldn't keep track. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket at some point, called his dad. It went to voice mail and Dean wasn't that surprised but the disappointment bit at his heart.

"Dad? Sammy's been hurt. Need you. Please."

They were the only words he spoke until the doctor came out. The sun was up, Dean knew that much, and he should have been exhausted but adrenaline was pumping through his veins, keeping him wide eyed and terrified.

"Dean Winchester?" The doctor had called out, lifting his head from the clipboard.

Dean couldn't even be bothered that they knew his real name. He stood and tried not to run at the doctor. His throat wouldn't work; it felt raw and sore, aching like the thing that was pulsing in his heart.

"Your brother is going to be okay," the doctor informed, obviously used to the lack of a response. Dean stared at him sharply at the man continued, "of course, we're going to keep him for observation for at least a week. He inhaled a fair bit of smoke so we need to insure his lungs are okay, any sort of sickness would be too much for his immune system at this point. We needed to stitch the gash on his face, and he has some minor burns on his arms, but all in all, he was lucky."

Blinking slowly Dean's mind repeated _lucky_ for a moment and he wondered if they'd refuse Sam treatment if he socked the doctor in the jaw right now. Instead, he asked, "stitches? That... won't that scar?"

The doctor winced slightly though Dean thought he wasn't meant to see that. "Yes, there will be a scar across the left side of his face, but he's alive. That's what's important."

Frankly, Dean had about enough of the doctor. He'd never been a fan of the medical staff. Too many years dealing with the same shit and they came across mostly calloused and coarse. "When can I see him?"

"Now, but he's sleeping and he probably will be for awhile," the doctor nodded and gestured for a nurse. "Take Mr. Winchester to room 415 alright? Let me know if you have any other questions."

He was gone before Dean could even nod and some childish part of Dean wanted to take his boot off and chuck it at the back of his head. The nurse cupped his elbow and Dean allowed her to guide him through swinging doors, down a long hallway and into an elevator. Sam was in the ICU and Dean swallowed thickly as they entered the much darker unit. Behind half closed curtains he could see patients hooked up to machines, the quiet and steady beat of heart machines, family members curled together. The sound of soft crying made his stomach churn.

Sam was asleep on stark white, covered by a pale green blanket, skin oddly pale though Dean knew it actually held a richer tone. The curtain was closed but Dean didn't really register the action. "Sammy..." he whispered and stepped forward, half sitting on the edge of the bed.

White bandages wrapped around Sam's hands, extending half way up his forearms, needles secured by bandages into the crook of each arm. Dean wondered what they were pumping into his system, if it could possibly be some magical solution that would help Sam. Because everything was beyond this moment. It wasn't the pain, the injuries, those things Sam would recover from. It was Jess and the fire and the ability to keep going on after he'd just watched the woman he loved being consumed by fire.

A patch of gauze was secured across the left side of his brother's face and Sam reached out to touch the edges, feeling the stark contrast of rough tape against smooth skin. Something wet slid down his cheek and Dean withdrew his hand to touch his own face. It seemed odd, that he hadn't cried until this point, when he was mostly sure Sam was going to be okay. Dean blinked slowly and shifted on the mattress, curling on his side beside his brother and extending an arm over his chest. "It's okay Sammy, I got you," he whispered into Sam's shoulder. Minutes later he fell asleep, lured into unconsciousness by the constant beat of Sam's heart playing through the machine beside the bed.

-=-=-=-

Waiting. It was one of those things Dean _hated_ , and also one he had to do far too often in his life. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't exhausted, completely and utterly but Dean only slept a couple hours at most. Every time he shifted he woke enough to register the various noises that told him he wasn't in some motel, the fire he kept dreaming of was real, the damage was done and the uncertain future was there at the door. For awhile he simply laid there with his arm over Sam's body, letting the gentle rise and fall of his chest act as a reassuring action. As long as Sam was breathing, things could keep going, and no matter what Dean would be there.

Eventually he rose, wandered off in search for a bathroom. The reflection looking back at him wasn't pretty. Dark soot was smeared across his jaw, his skin pale in the florescent light, dirty hair, big bags beneath his eyes. Dean coughed for several long minutes and wondered idly if the smoke inhalation thing was something he should worry about. Shrugging it off Dean splashed water on his face until the grime was gone, until he felt a little less like a walking zombie.

There was no way he'd keep any food down but Dean needed the jolt of caffeine. It was just after lunch and the cafeteria was closing but a little investigating and he found a small waiting room with a pot of coffee that was at least warm if not necessarily hot. The liquid was bitter and rich and burned sliding down his throat but Dean drained the cup in three quick swallows. He spent the next few minutes coughing before pouring himself a second cup and carrying it back to Sam's room.

As he'd expected, there was no change. Sam was still asleep and Dean stood beside the railing for a long time, simply staring. Dean didn't realize his hand was pressed over Sam's heart until he could feel the gentle thrum along his palm. His eyes dropped and he swayed slightly, biting down on his lip to stop the swell of a sob rising in his chest. Every part of him _ached_ for Sam, for what he would have to face and Dean allowed the fear and weakness to seep off him now. As soon as his brother woke, he would need to be strong, need to be the one to ensure he was okay, carry him on as he always would.

Some time later Dean sat along the side of Sam's bed again, keeping his hand on his chest and waiting. His body screamed for sleep but Dean couldn't get his mind to shut down. He'd sleep when Sam woke, when he could at least be reassured of that.

-=-=-=-

Sam could hear too much noise. Hissing, clicking, something was beeping. His mouth was dry, throat aching and beyond that he just wasn't sure. Everything ached and hurt... shifting slightly he groaned feeling a sharp jolt of pain along his right side. Forcing his eyes to open Sam groaned again, it stung, like there was something in his eyes - gritty and sore. He really wanted water.

The noise jerked Dean from the swirl of thoughts in his mind and he turned quickly, reaching out to brush hair from Sam's temple, "Sam? Can you hear me?" His brother was moving slightly, shifting across the mattress and Dean slid forward to stare down into his face. "Hey Sammy, wake up, I'm right here," he murmured quietly.

Managing only to make a strange hissing sound at first Sam's eyelashes fluttered again, eyes still stinging. "Wa..." He coughed and curled over to his side lifting his arms a little. _Dean_. Sam had never been so happy to sort of see his brother's face.

"Wa?" Dean frowned, thought for a moment then chuckled softly, "Water? Hold on." Standing swiftly Dean grabbed the nearby pitcher, glad he'd filled it an hour or so ago for his own use. He poured a half glass full before settling beside his brother once more and gently sliding a hand back to cup the back of Sam's head and tilt up slightly. "Don't try to move yet okay?" He smiled softly and gently tipped the cup over Sam's lips until the throat moved in swallowing motions a few times and he pulled back, "better?"

Squeezing his eyes shut once more Sam breathed slowly. "What...?" He tried to lift his arm but it hurt and there was stuff stuck all over him. Clearing his throat again he tried to rake back through his thoughts. _Jess_. "Jessica..." he murmured. "Did you get..." he coughed and winced, shoulders curling forward, "Jess?"

Dean's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, throat tightening around the words he knew he had to say. "Sam..." Dean slowly opened his eyes and reached out to cup the side of Sam's face that was uninjured. "I'm so sorry Sam," he whispered, letting their gaze lock. "She... she didn't make it..." Dean braced himself for the pain he knew was moments from blanketing his brother's gaze.

Sam's eyes filled with tears as his mind started to dredge up flashes of images like flash bulbs going off in a dark room. Jess and the flames. He started to shake his head slowly, face crumpling under the weight of what his mind already knew. "Dean?" Panting softly Sam tugged his arm loose and grabbed at his brothers shirt. "No... no... Dean?" A sob slipped out of his mouth and he couldn't see anymore, tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks. He couldn't stop shaking his head, because it was all he had left - to deny it.

"God Sam..." Dean whispered, shifting quickly on the bed to pull Sam against his chest as much as possible around the cords connecting him to various machines. There was really nothing for him to say, no words that could possibly make this situation any better. He held Sam tightly and flinched as Sam's sobs made the heart monitor sky rocket. The curtain pulled back and a concerned nurse, Dean thought she'd introduced herself as Nicole, stepped forward, eyes wide. Dean waved her off with a glare and stroked a hand through his brother's hair. "I'm so sorry Sam... it was... I would have..." he trailed off in defeat, not sure if he could even force himself to say anything more.

"Why?" Sam whispered the word against Dean's ear. It was the only question he had; there wasn't much else that mattered anymore. "Oh _God_..." He was starting to shake and bile was rising in the back of his throat. "Dean... no... there's a mistake... please..." But he knew inside there was no mistake. Dean would never say something like that to him - and his own eyes - Sam had seen the fire, the flames licking at her pale skin. "Wanna go." Sam struggled against Dean's weight and his own exhaustion then groaned loudly as pain sliced along his face and neck.

Shifting his body around Dean stretched out on the mattress so he could pull Sam hard against his body, eyes pressing closed around the ache coursing through him. The raw pain in Sam's voice, the way his body shook with the weight of everything, made Dean's heart clench painfully. "You... Sam you got injured too. You can't go yet. I know... I know you don't want to be here but I'm staying with you, not going anywhere," Dean tucked Sam's head gently against his shoulder. "You gotta calm down a little, don't want to hurt yourself more." His eyes lifted as the nurse reappeared, frown deeper, hovering nearby like she was tempted to come in and knock Sam out with a dose of morphine.

Trembling against his older brother's chest Sam cried like he hadn't cried since he was a little kid. It hurt - like something had been torn out of his chest. He'd never expected a loss before that felt so much like _real_ pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and had to open them because he suddenly couldn't remember Jess' face. "Dean... my... need my wallet." There was a photo of Jess in there, if he could just see it. "I can't ..."

"Okay, okay I got it," Dean shifted slightly and slid off the side of the bed, moving over to the side table. Sam's clothes were long gone but he'd still had his wallet with him, now it rested on the side table and Dean snatched at it, carrying it swiftly to Sam's side.

"I'm sorry sir but I really don't think it's wise we let him get this worked up," the nurse reappeared once more and stepped forward.

Dean spun to her and glared, "back the _fuck_ off lady. Just give him a minute would you?" He said the words louder than he anticipated and scowled, staring at her until she slid back and turned to walk away. Sighing slowly he turned back to Sam and sat on the edge of the bed, holding out the wallet. "Want some more water?"

Shaking his head, Sam reached for the wallet. He stared at his hands, most of his fingers covered with bandages. Letting his hand fall to his brother's thigh he blinked glassy eyes at Dean, "there's a picture of Jess..." He nudged the wallet back toward Dean with his fist. Hiccoughing a breath, Sam tried to stop crying. He didn't want them to make him go back to sleep, he wanted to see the picture and he wanted to just go away somewhere with Dean.

Rolling his lips together Dean nodded and lifted the wallet, pulling out the picture. It hit him like a punch in the gut and he'd only known of the woman's presence for a day. But the sheer pain in his brother's face... "Here," he whispered and offered the picture, blinking a few times. He wanted to hold Sam close again so he shifted slightly on the mattress until he could negotiate his arm around his brother.

Sam clutched the photograph. Smiling through his tears at Jess' face he rolled into Dean's chest shivering, aching. "I... wish I wasn't alive." Pressing the photo to his chest Sam leaned hard against his brother's heat. "It hurts," he whispered. He wasn't even sure if he meant his body or just everything that was tearing apart inside of him. It was like he was lost, completely lost.

Dean gasped on a surprised sob and clenched his eyes closed, tightening his arms around Sam, "god... I know Sam. I know... but... you gotta be alive - you can't -" Dean shook his head, wishing there was some magical thing to say to make it better. "Jess would want you alive," he whispered, hand tracing along the side of the bandage slowly.

Falling silent, Sam felt himself slipping away from the room around him. He could feel Dean's arm around him, feel the warmth of his brother's body, still hear the machines but his eye lids were heavy. There was only so much pain he could feel and it was like his body just disconnected from it. Sighing, he closed his eyes. "When... can I leave?" Finger running along the edge of the photograph Sam breathed slower, shoulders sagging.

"Not for a little while Sam, we'll talk about it later," Dean slid back enough to let his brother rest completely down on the pillow. "Do you want some pain killers? They'll help you sleep for awhile." His hand brushed hair off Sam's brow, frowning down at him.

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah" He was already starting to feel numb; maybe you couldn't feel so much when the pieces were all broken. "It hurts," he echoed. The side of his face was throbbing his hands... he didn't really care what was wrong - just wanted to go back to sleep.

"I know Sam," Dean nodded in return and slid off the side of the bed. He left the curtained area, tracking down the nurse - who didn't look too pleased to see him - and asked for her help. Following her back to Sam's bed side Dean felt like his steps were sluggish, barely there, and he dropped down onto the side of the bed while she clicked at the IV machine to pump morphine into Sam's system. Once she'd left he reached out to stroke along his hair once more. "Sleep for awhile; I'll be here when you wake up." He whispered, not sure if Sam was even awake still.

-=-=-=-

They kept Sam for eight days though Dean was sure the man was only really awake for a total of three of them. Dean was awake for far too much of it, totalling possibly only twelve or so hours of sleep the whole week. He was exhausted and aching from hours sitting on the bedside or in the chair nearby. His blood might possibly be made up of only coffee by this point and Dean was more than ready to be out of the hospital. The wraps had been removed from Sam's hands, some scarring but nothing unmanageable. The nurse took Dean aside and listed off a whole page of things to do to ensure Sam's wounds were best taken care of. Dean had stared at the ointments, the medicine in pill bottles, the cream to put over the stitches on Sam's face, and tried to observe it all. Thankfully she handed him a printed out sheet as well.

Sam was as close to a zombie as Dean could imagine. He sat on the edge of the bed in silence while Dean helped him into a clean shirt, helped him stand to step into boxers and jeans, helped him sit again and then knelt to pull on his brother’s socks and shoes. Dean wondered if Sam was just beyond the point of numb, crushed and broken on a level Dean couldn't quite understand. There was something oddly nostalgic and crushing coursing through him as he brushed Sam's hair, made him drink some water, eat a few pieces of cheese. There was nothing Dean wouldn't do for his brother and he had a feeling that this would be tested in the months to come.

After getting Sam situated in the passenger seat Dean took a moment to lean against the driver's side door, rubbing along his eyes and sighing softly. He didn't know how to fix Sam besides being there; he didn't know what Sam wanted to do next, where they would go, what they would do. Dean had long since given up hope on hearing back from their dad, he'd called one more time but the man didn't answer and Dean didn't leave a message. They were on their own, Dean would be left to once more look after Sam, and though he'd never consider it a burden, annoyance sparked up in him at their dad's calloused reaction.

Pulling the door open, Dean slid in behind the wheel and turned to look at Sam, still sitting just as he'd been when Dean helped him in the car. "Sam?" He asked softly and reached out to touch his arm. "Is there anywhere you'd like to go?" His fingers twitched up to smooth down over the fresh bandage on his cheek, eyes sad and steady on his brother.

"Doesn't matter," Sam murmured. There was nothing left of his apartment, not that he'd had that much to begin with. He didn't want to talk to their friends, _Jess'_ friends because he felt like maybe if he'd been home with her .... sighing, Sam turned to look out the window, letting his forehead rest against the cool window. "Really doesn't matter."

Nodding slowly Dean pulled his hand back and started up the car, pulling out of the parking lot. He didn't really know where to go, what could make this better, but he knew being in this city wouldn't help at all. So he started off, heading for the highway, playing music low and quiet, not really registering what it was. They drove for several long hours in silence. Dean was slowly curling and uncurling his fingers along the steering wheel, forcing his eyes to stay open as they weaved in and out of traffic. A few years ago he'd helped out an elderly couple with a serious ghost problem; they'd been sweet and said they'd help him in return if he ever needed it.

Dean wasn't usually ones to use those debts but he wasn't given a lot of options. Sam was in no condition to hunt, probably wouldn't be for awhile, and there was no way Dean was leaving him alone. Not until he was sure Sam wouldn't completely lose it by himself. They needed a place to stay that wasn't going to seriously drain all his funds. So he rationalized that asking for the favour was alright.

It took most of the afternoon to get to the small city the elderly couple lived in and Dean instructed Sam to stay in the car while he spoke to them. His brother hadn't said a single word since the hospital and Dean felt like that hollow part growing in him echoed his footsteps as he walked up to the house. The couple was thrilled to see him – faces brightening then dimming when Dean explained his situation and asked if there was any place they knew of for him to stay. Thankfully a friend of theirs owned a cabin in a secluded part of the beach half an hour away and was only there every so often.

A few phone calls and thirty minutes later and Dean was heading back to the car with a hand drawn map and instructions about how to ensure the cabin was in best working order. Sam hadn't moved and that terrified Dean a little more than he wanted to admit. "I found us a place to stay for awhile," he said softly as he slid behind the steering wheel, glancing over at his brother before starting the car up again.

Almost two hours later the sun was setting as they traveled down the dusty one lane road to the cabin. Dean had stopped to gather some needed supplies, ensuring they wouldn't need to head to town for awhile at least. It was quiet as they pulled up to the small cabin, just the gentle crash of waves and the occasional call from the sea gulls along the beach. Dean stared at the building for a moment before looking at his brother and clearing his throat, "you want to head in? I can bring in the stuff."

Sam's turned slowly, eyes finally settling on his brother's face. Blinking slowly a few times he licked his lips. "I can help." Turning back to the window Sam grabbed the door handle and pushed his door open slowly, wincing as he accidently bent his wrist. It was frustratingly difficult to get out of the car without using his hands and he swore softly a few times before managing to turn and slide out - getting his feet under him at the last moment. Spinning around he kicked wildly at the door to shut it and fell back onto his hip. Letting out a hollow kind of yell, the kind he'd heard before from people when they were working a case, people who'd lost ... someone. Crumpling down against the road he lay there panting.

Shaking his head Dean stepped out of the car and walked slowly around, kneeling beside his brother and hooking and arm around his shoulders. "Hey... c'mon, let's go inside, don't worry about the stuff." Dean knew Sam wasn't supposed to carry anything for awhile anyway. He tugged him slowly up to his feet, shouldering most of the burden of his weight and forcing them to step forward. "Sam, we're gonna get through this okay?" He whispered softly, leading him almost forcefully toward the door.

"I don't want to get through it," Sam spat. " _This_ is what I've got now...this ... " Sam recoiled from Dean's arm like it stung as soon as they were near the door. It did sting, it made him feel and he didn't want to feel anything anymore. "I have nothing. Do you realize that?" Gritting his teeth Sam leaned heavily against the wall beside the door. "Should have been there," he murmured. "I shouldn't have gone out and I would have been there when it...when it..." Groaning, Sam let his head fall hard against the wall.

School was finished, hell, not that he cared much but Sam wasn't even sure if he would ever use his hands properly without everything hurting. The Doctors spoke mostly to Dean - and Sam, well, he really didn't really give a shit. There was no Jess - and with her went that life he'd wanted, the home, the career, kids, the _not_ hunting. _Not_ living in motel rooms and hunting with his family. _Not_ being in danger all the time. He should have known that it was too good to be true. "It's my fault she's dead. So, no, Dean, I won't get through this." Sam was breathing hard, heart racing in his chest. "I ... need to lie down."

Tears pricked along Dean's eyes and he turned slightly, bending down to lift under the mat and retrieve the key he'd been told he found there. Unlocking the door silently he pushed it open and led the way inside. There was a wide open space, living room and kitchen, small dining table and coffee table. Nothing remarkable. Heading forward down the short hallway Dean glanced into the bathroom before pushing the bedroom door open: one large king sized bed, dresser and closet. Stepping out of the room he gestured that way, "you can have the bed." Dean was pointedly ignoring the sharp stab in him that echoed _I have nothing_ over and over, it seemed safest to bury it away to deal with later like everything else. "Sam, it's not your fault," he said quietly, shaking his head before walking back out to the car to gather their things.

There was something empty inside his chest and crazy as it was - empty still managed to sting and hurt. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes again and he hardly noticed. As a kid, he'd always thought Dean was right about everything; Sam believed without hesitation everything that Dean told him. But not this. Jess was dead because of Sam. Clamping his lips tight together Sam blew out a shuddering breath through his nose. If only he'd been there. If Dean hadn't showed up and Sam had never gone out. If Sam hadn't been in such a rush to be alone with Dean and make sure things were okay between them he could have invited Jess to come along. She was alone when she died, because she was dead before Sam ever walked back into the room. Stumbling forward a few steps Sam walked to the bed and sank down onto it, curling as much of his too-tall frame as he could. The sobs were gentler when they came this time, the grief deeper. "Dean," he whispered. When there was no sign of his brother, Sam sucked in a breath and screamed his brother's name. When the sound finally stopped he couldn't breathe, it felt like his lungs were stuck somehow and he could only gasp in small breaths.

The bags were halfway out the car when Dean heard his brother scream and he dropped everything, not caring what spilled as he bolted around the car and across the porch, darting through the house and spinning around the corner into the bedroom. "Sam..." he panted softly, stepping forward to the bed slowly. Hesitating for just a moment he watched the small shake along his brother's body before he stepped forward and climbed up beside him, pulling him close instantly and wrapping arms tight around him. "I'm here," he whispered, eyes pressing tightly closed around the still sting of tears.

"I can't do this," Sam gasped for air like he was drowning. "Dean, I can't... I c..can't." Wrapping him arms around his brother's waist Sam slid down Dean's body until his head was lying across Dean's lap. Sobbing quietly Sam gripped Dean's shirt in his hands. "I..." Sam was breathing so fast he was starting to feel dizzy. "I gave you up... I had... I had to give you up...let you go..." turning his head he buried his face in Dean's belly, trying to breath in his brother's scent. "And... and..." Sam choked and coughed for a few long moments, "I… started over...and I lost... I lost Jess too." A kind of cold Sam had never felt before sank over him like a blanket of snow and he could feel his entire body start to shake, in a few moments even his teeth were chattering. "Don't leave me...." Sam was shivering so badly he kept clawing at Dean's shirt trying to keep his grip. "I'm s..sorry... I didn't mean what I said..." Heaving a breath into his lungs Sam just let go. He was so tired.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean soothed, voice catching around the tears streaming down his cheeks. He tightened his hands along Sam's waist and tugged him up until he could curve his body into his, holding him as close as he could like he would have done when they had just kissed. "You haven't lost me. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you Sam, not ever." Dean chanted the words, trying to hide how upset he was. Sam wasn't _ever_ supposed to feel pain like this, Dean had always tried to protect him from that, keep him safe and secure. "I love you Sammy, always," Dean whispered the words and tightened his hold, rocking him softly and humming quietly, a lullaby neither of them could remember but had always found comfort in.

There were a few words swimming around in Sam's mind, but he didn't feel like he needed to say any of them anymore. There were so many closed doors behind him. Dean felt like the only _real_ thing that was left so Sam held on because as much as he wanted to die - and _God_ he wanted to die - something in him, something human, _made_ him hold on. He had no idea how long he sat there, how long Dean held him. Sam just knew that his sobs finally started to diminish, the light in the room was fading and his face was aching below the tear-soaked bandage when he finally managed to pull back enough to look at his brother's face. He couldn't breathe through his nose and his skin was almost sore from the salt in his tears. "Do you..." he whispered, pressing his forehead to his brother's, "ever wish you could go back and do things over?" Sam's fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his brother's neck.

The familiarity of the touch shot Dean back to a different time, a different injury, a whole different world. "Yes," he admitted with a quiet whisper, starring bleary eyed at his brother for a moment before closing his eyes. He inhaled the breath Sam exhaled and swallowed hard. Dean used to think it was pointless to wish for things you couldn't have, a future you couldn't change, but there were some places that rule could be bent and broken. When it came to Sam, what happened between them, Dean always lingered over the could-have-been's. "Do you?" His hand rubbed in small circles along Sam's back, soothing away the last few shudders from tears.

Sam nodded. "I do," he whispered, "I really do." Shifting slowly he hissed as his stitches were pulled too tight. "Do we have… bandages..." Sam's fingers fluttered up to the damp gauze on his face. "It's hurting pretty bad..." Sliding back off Dean's lap Sam waited for Dean to help him up. He was also done with falling over and hurting himself. _Drained_ , was what he was.

Pushing to his feet Dean nodded and muttered something about the car before heading out. He slammed a wall down over his thoughts, focusing completely on getting the freshly stocked first aid kit and carrying it back inside along with the bag from the hospital. Sam swayed slightly on the middle of the bed and Dean helped him slide over until his legs dropped off the edge. "I'll change it out," he informed quietly and reached up to gently tug at the tape. It had been changed enough times in the last week that the skin was slightly red from the peeling off of tape. Humming softly Dean shook his head and pulled out the cream to clean it. "Actually, I think we'll let it air for awhile. You can sleep with it off as long as you don't roll onto it. Don’t want your skin to get raw." Dean gently spread the cream over the stitches, slightly relieved that they didn't look as red and swollen as they had a few days ago. "Sam?" He asked quietly, shifting in the place he knelt between Sam's legs. "When... when you wish you could do it over... do you..." Dean swallowed thickly, resolutely keeping his gaze on the wound. "Do you wish we hadn't ever... or do you wish we didn't stop...?" The stitches were completely covered in cream and Dean wiped his finger on his jeans before getting the ointment, squirting it into his palm and rubbing between his hands than taking Sam's hand to smear the solution softly into the skin.

Sam took a deep breath. When you started picking apart time how did you know where to begin? Which moment in time would have been the right one to change? "Both," Sam sniffed. In his mind both would have accomplished the same thing. "I never knew Mom," his voice was soft. "I barely know my own Dad. You... I shouldn't have..." His bottom lip trembled for a few moments and he bit down on it. "If we'd never..." He blew out a long breath. "I lied. To you. I lied." Sam closed his eyes focusing on his brother's touch. "When I said what happened didn't matter... and..." Rubbing at his face with the back of his free hand Sam sniffed again. "I lied to Jess to," Sam's voice was rough, almost gone. "I didn't tell her... that there were so many things to be scared of." His shoulders slumped a little, feet tucking under his brother's shins.

"Not everyone wants to know that there are things to be scared of," Dean said softly, staring at Sam's hands as he rubbed the ointment into his skin. "Sam, you can't blame yourself for this. If you need to blame anyone you blame me. Because I came, didn't call, just showed up. If I'd... if I was smarter, I wouldn't have done it like that," Dean shrugged and pushed back. "Gonna get you some water, it's been too long without the meds, you have to be in a lot of pain." Dean left the room before Sam could say anything, walking back outside and snagging the two gallons of water from the backseat. He had no idea what the water from the tap would be life and the doctor had stressed the importance of Sam not getting sick now while his lungs were still weak. Doing what he did best, Dean ignored the way his very _soul_ ached and filled a glass of water, carrying it down the hall and setting it on the nightstand. "Can you stand? We'll get you undressed so you'll be more comfortable," he murmured as he lifted the first aid kit and moved it to the side, pulling out the bottle of meds and twisting it open.

Sam stood up; head bowed and held his arms out. Dean had been helping him with everything since he'd first woken in the hospital. It almost reminded Sam of when he was a kid and Dean would help him with his heavy winter clothes. While Dean was unbuttoning Sam's shirt his fingers were steady, gentle and Sam focused on trying to stay on his feet. Dean had always taken care of him; as far back as he could remember. Actually, Sam's earliest memories _were_ of Dean. Dean tucking him in to bed at night, Dean waking him from nightmares, Dean bandaging his first burned finger when he was trying to cook an egg. Dean, Dean, _Dean_. Once Sam's arms were free he rested them on Dean's shoulders, eyes moving over his brother's freckles.

Some part of Dean kept thinking taking care of Sam would fall back into a natural place in his mind, back to younger years before complications, but it didn't work that way. He couldn't ignore the curves of Sam's abs, just barely resisted the desire to linger his fingers over the skin. Each hidden, lustful glance was followed by a healthy dose of guilt and a swift mental kick that clearly stated checking out his grieving brother was actually _worse_ than just checking out his brother. So he tried not to put any thought into unfastening the thoughts and letting them drop to the ground, gently pushing Sam back on the mattress and kneeling to take off his shoes and socks. "Remember to stay off your left side," he reminded quietly and helped Sam stand again so he could pull the blanket back and gently lower him onto the sheet. Turning, he scooped up the meds and slipped them past Sam's lips without hesitating; pressing the glass there a moment later and tipping it back enough for him to swallow. "Call if you need anything," he murmured and gently helped Sam extend out on the bed.

"Stay in here." Sam's fingers curled over Dean's wrist. "Please... I... I dream..." He rubbed at the end of his nose with his free hand, gazing up at Dean's face. "Please?" He knew it was asking a lot, but this time, he'd take advantage of the fact that Dean hated saying no to him.

"Sure, whatever you need Sam," Dean nodded and stepped back slightly, turning over to consider the items in the car. It was nothing that couldn't wait until Sam fell asleep at least. Sighing softly he slipped out of his jeans and walked around the bed, climbing in the other side and hooking an arm around Sam’s waist to pull him close. Dean's heart fluttered feebly and he resolutely told it to shut up because that was safest. Still, his body acted of its own accord and Dean's lips pressed softly against Sam's shoulder blade, eyes closing around the sudden prick of tears.

"Thank you," Sam murmured as he slid his hand over Dean's.


	3. Chapter 3

That first day Dean laid with Sam until he was certain the meds had completely kicked in and his brother was asleep. Even though he was past the point of exhaustion, Dean couldn't fall asleep, couldn't get his brain to shut down, and couldn’t get the feel of Sam's body curved against his to go away. So he climbed out of bed and headed out to the car to gather the items. Thankfully the sun hadn't been shining on the metal and even the milk still felt cool enough to be alright. He had probably gone a little overboard with grocery shopping but he knew the next few days, weeks, however long were going to be the hardest for Sam and he didn't want to leave his side unless absolutely necessary. Dean worked late into the night arranging things, cleaning dust from the surfaces, sitting on the porch staring out into the ocean and wondering if he was a glutton for punishment or just so helplessly _gone_ for his brother that there really was no other choice. By the time he climbed back in bed it was well past one and his brain was _done_. The following day he didn't wake until mid afternoon. Sam had moved once or twice, possibly gotten up, but was asleep now and Dean carefully and quietly cleaned his hands and face before applying the necessary medications. He wouldn't admit to spending too long touching Sam's face, or dipping down to press a small kiss against his lips. After all, this was taking more out of him than he thought and Dean decided he deserved at least one little indulgence.

Sam began to dread waking up. Waking up meant a few seconds of peace and the tingling hint that something wasn't quite right followed by the crushing weight of everything sleep had hidden from him. Each time he woke - Sam tried to stay asleep a little longer, tried to just stay there in the darkness. It worked a lot of the time but soon, _far too soon_ , Sam's body was starting to feel a little more like it wanted to move rather than stay still.

Sometimes when Sam woke up his brother was there, sometimes, Dean was gone. Sam rolled over, wincing slightly; Dean was gone. Easing his way out of bed, Sam looked around until he found the sweats of his brother's he'd been wearing. Although his arms felt stiff, Dean had been putting the cream on them and he was actually able to bend his wrists. It made getting dressed a hell of a lot easier. Sam spent a lot of time staring out the window at the ocean. It was strange, he'd always wanted to go to the ocean and here he was, the worst time of his life in one of the best places on earth. He could see Dean standing down by the waves. His brother's jeans were rolled up a little - even though it was far too cold for anyone to want to go in the water. Dean was just staring out at the ocean and Sam couldn't remember a time he'd seen his brother so still.

After a few days, Sam wanted to go outside. He woke up, suddenly feeling like he wanted cool, fresh air on his face. Dean was more than happy to walk a short way down the beach with Sam. More than one time, Sam found himself wondering what he would do without his brother. His whole life he'd been aware - on the periphery of his thoughts - that Dean was a constant in his life. Whether they were speaking often or just managing to meet up every few months, Sam knew that Dean was there. It just felt really hard to reach him. They both seemed to be trapped inside their own little worlds. _Strange_. Sam pointed out that there was a lighthouse along the shoreline. Dean just nodded, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the early morning sunlight. It was in that moment that Sam decided he wanted to see it, he remembered old movies from when he was a kid; people running up the spiral staircase - the spine of the lighthouse. Maybe, when he was feeling better. After the first walk, it was easier to leave the small cabin. Walks became a part of what they did; a part of their _life_ \- or what life Dean was trying to drag Sam back to. Sam just felt like he had his heels dug in a little and wondered how long Dean would keep trying to pull him back.

Dean did all the cooking. Sam made the coffee. It felt good to have a task; a task that was manageable. There were other things that Sam needed to accomplish but _fuck_ some of those were too huge to even contemplate. Sam knew he had to learn to live with what he'd lost; he had to somehow begin to understand his part in what had happened. Each time he looked at Jess' photo - he lost his resolve - wondering if anyone would ever smile at him again the way she was smiling at him as he'd taken that photo. Sometimes, he thought maybe what he'd been offered in life had been too special, burned out too fast; he'd used it up without ever knowing there was a limit to it. Eventually, Dean went into the nearest town. Sam opted to stay at the cabin. For some reason - he felt like he was wearing tragedy like a jacket and everyone would take one look at his face and _know_ what he'd done. It was enough that Sam knew what he'd done - he was pretty certain he wouldn't survive seeing any kind of judgment in a stranger's face. So, Sam made coffee every morning and every morning Dean thanked him. He _thanked_ him - like it was really important that he got his stupid ass out of bed to do that one insignificant thing. When he thought about it though - he wondered if it was Dean's only hint that Sam was still there.

Looking at the wound on his face and neck didn't occur to Sam until days had passed. He knew he was injured. He could still feel the ache and tug of the stitches when he frowned or sneezed. When the stitches started to itch Dean told him it was time to take them out and brought the first aid kit back into the bedroom. Snipping with tiny scissors, tugging as gently as he could Dean pulled out over twenty stitches before Sam stopped counting. There wasn't any real pain but the strange pull and tug made Sam want to punch something. When it was finished Dean got the strangest look on his face. Like somehow, he was seeing Sam for the first time. It didn't make any sense to Sam's weary eyes so he pushed up off the bed and went into the bathroom to see the scar. Of course, Dean had assured him from where he hovered at his shoulder, the redness would fade - it would look much better than it did then. Jagged and red, a little raw and angry the scar went from the middle of Sam's cheek almost to the corner of his mouth then headed down over his jaw and half way to his Adam's apple. Sam had never been a vain person but it startled him; it was like looking at someone else's face. Tilting his head his lifted a finger and traced the scar on the man in the mirror. Finally, turning to Dean he had assured his brother that he'd never really cared about the way he looked and secretly? He felt like he deserved it. That was _guilt_ he would now wear on his face for the rest of his life. Sam asked Dean to cover it again, arguing that it didn't feel quite healed. Really, he just didn't want to see it. But - how do you explain that to someone without sounding shallow and horrible. You don't. Well, Sam didn't.

Sam lost track of time and eventually had to ask Dean how long they'd been at the cabin. A week. Of course, Sam's brain was on top of things after that. Jess died, Sam was in hospital for eight days, Sam and Dean had been staying at the cabin for seven nights. Fifteen days since Sam had seen Jessica smile. There wasn't much point in keeping track of the days.

Everything fell neatly into _before_ that night and _after_ that night. The day Dean drove back down the road with a few bags of new clothes for Sam - the first thought through Sam's mind was that he would never again own a piece of clothing that Jess had touched. She'd never again press her tiny hand to his sweater, tug on his sleeve, and slip her fingers in the back pockets on his jeans. When he thought about things like that he would often find himself back in the bedroom sitting on the side of the bed with Jess' picture clutched in his fingers.

After that first week Sam put the photo back in his wallet and went to talk to Dean. He sat and told Dean about the way he and Jess met, how nervous he'd been and how sweet and patient she was. Sam told his brother about the first time she kissed him - and how he'd been so glad that she's made the decision for him. Sam shared every single memory he could about his life with Jess and found himself once more thanking whatever entity it was that had seen fit to bless him with a brother like Dean.

There really was no moment during the first week that Dean thought _Sam's getting better._ Even with the little things, the getting up, making coffee, taking walks, pain and heartache seemed to seep from the man. Dean drank it up, though he knew he shouldn't have, he should have stepped back, pulled his emotions in and not let Sam's weigh on him. But he felt if he could just take some of that pain, he could relieve a little more of his brother's burden. There were specific moments during the week that would stay burned into his mind for the rest of his life. Pulling the stitches out and getting the first real look at the scar on his brother’s face was one, watching shock filter across Sam's face in the mirror as he touched the mark was another. Dean wanted to tell his brother that he was still gorgeous, that there wasn't one part of him that didn't want to pull Sam close and make him _feel_. But he kept his mouth shut and covered the scar with gauze when Sam asked.

Hearing Sam talk about Jess, all their firsts, all the happy little memories, made Dean's body _ache_. He'd never been so conflicted with emotions before in his life. Dean would never stop hurting for his brother, wishing there was a way to take these feelings from him. He wanted to slide over and hold him close but it felt as if he'd be breaking that moment, somehow pulling Sam away from Jess even further. Some part of him had never shaken the guilt, just as he was sure his brother still carried. If he'd never come, then none of this would have happened. And then, the jealousy. It was inescapable and the moment Sam ran out of steam and stumbled back to the bedroom for a rest Dean was up and out the front door. Tears burned down his cheeks and he wiped angrily at them, kicking at the sand as if that would solve everything.

It was one of the few self indulgent moments he allowed himself, a time to draw in on himself and wonder if he was strong enough for the both of them. Then he'd remember that he had to be strong enough, he had to ensure Sam was alright because this was _Sam_. Dean sat with his legs crossed on the porch, watching the waves crash along the shore and allowing himself to gradually accept reality. Dean loved Sam. Dean was _in love_ with Sam. He probably had been for years, maybe even before the kiss, and it was a thought he'd been chasing away for so long that finally allowing it to sink in felt almost as if some of that weight was lifted. Almost. It didn't make anything easier however, for so many reasons Dean decided to not acknowledge any of it further.

Instead he pushed himself up, shrugged the thoughts off and wiped the tears away. He'd keep doing what he was doing, keep looking after Sam and helping in any way he could. Sam needed time, needed hope again and Dean would be there. His hands were healing nicely, though Dean thought Sam might not even realize how much time he spent rubbing the ointment along the burns to heal them. Truthfully, Dean didn't think Sam realized a lot of things recently and Dean did quite a few of them while Sam was sleeping. And Dean spent a fair amount of that time watching Sam, studying him, wondering what a person did when they accepted the fact that they had feelings for their brother. _Roll with the punches_. That was really his only option.

Talking about Jess must have worn his brother out, Dean could feel the drained energy, tapped into Sam like the entire experience was connecting them in a way he didn't think possible. Dean watched him for a long time, too long, before finally gathering a wet rag from the bathroom and bringing it back into the bedroom. Pulling up the chair along the side of the bed Dean tilted Sam's head slightly and gently wet along the edges of the bandage, pulling it easily free. The wound was getting less and less red with each passing day, a relief to Dean who noted the little changes just to know he was doing an okay job. Once the area was clean he grabbed the cream and began a gentle trail of fingers and cream along the forming scar, eyes fluttering closed slightly as his heart did its usual clench, twist.

Sam woke slowly, reluctant to let go of the warmth and darkness of sleep. Blinking his eyes open lazily he looked up at Dean. His brother's eyes were closed, long dark lashes resting on his freckled cheeks. Any other time it might have made Sam smile. His brother's fingers were gentle as they ran down the scar; he's done it so many times he probably knew the path of the scar better than Sam. Sam avoided looking at it. Closing his eyes for a few moments, Sam reached up and curled his fingers over his brother's hand, fingers pressing a gentle squeeze to Dean's palm. "She... was dead when I found her..." The words sounded foreign to Sam, strange, even though the image of Jess was almost ever-present; saying it out-loud made it so much more real.

Swallowing thickly Dean opened his eyes and met Sam's, frowning slightly, "what? Jess?" His mind sparked around the idea and he shook his head, "but... then... Sam, can you tell me what happened?" Dean had been curious before, exactly what had happened, if Sam knew what caused the fire, but it seemed impossible to ask.

"It was... just like Mom." Sam sighed, shoulders sagging as though this was the last thing he had holding him rigid. Tugging gently on Dean's hand he pulled it away from his cheek and pressed it to his chest. Sometimes, Sam felt like it was Dean that kept his heart beating day to day. "She was..." Sam's eyes drifted up to the ceiling, "almost right away her body burst into flames. But her eyes, Dean..." Sam's gaze dropped back to his brother's hand moving restlessly on Dean's. "She was gone as soon - before I got there. Her eyes weren't right." Sam pressed his own eyes closed, face wrinkling in a slight frown.

"Jesus..." Dean whispered in shock, unable to take his eyes off the fresh wave of pain on his brother's face. "But... why would..." The knowledge that Jess had been killed like their mother was slamming through his brain, trying to straighten out and make sense. The urge to call their dad was overwhelming but Dean knew it was useless. Wasn't like he'd answer anyway. "God Sam... you... you couldn't have stopped that... it..." he shook his head, free hand squeezing Sam's arm softly.

"I want it dead, Dean. Whatever... did this." His voice hardened, wall slowly building around everything in him that was broken so close to beyond repair. "We need to go back to hunting. Hunt, we need to hunt." Gripping his brother's hand tightly Sam looked up at him, pleading with his eyes. This might be the thing that could keep him moving forward.

"Your hands..." Dean looked down at the hand around his own, still slightly red and blistered. "You... they need to be healed. You know you won't be able to do anything until they are. Then, yeah. We will. We'll find whatever did this," he nodded and decided _not_ calling his dad was no longer an option. If he had to call and call and call he wound, after all he was the only person Dean knew of that had an encounter with the demon before.

"Promise me." Sam's lips were a thin line of determination, his eyes wide.

"Of course Sam, whatever you want," Dean nodded, locking his gaze with Sam's. "Once your hands are better," he added and reached out to grab the ointment from the nightstand, going through the familiar actions to run it over his hands softly.

Sam watched his brother's fingers moving over his hands, the red flesh. It was ugly - not that Sam really cared, the angry red suited Sam. Probaby would suit him for the rest of his life. Reaching up with his free hand he curled it around the back of Dean's neck. The ointment was slick, his fingers moving slightly on his brother's skin but he tugged him forward anyway pressing his lips to his brother's. It was a gentle kiss, soft and warm. Pulling away slightly, Sam whispered, "thank you." Closing his eyes he leaned his forehead against his brother's, "I know... this is hard for you..."

Parts of Dean wanted to recoil, to push away and dart off down the beach. Instead he sighed and gently shook his head, "don't worry about me Sam. I'm here to help you." His stomach twisted, pulled, and Dean wondered if he'd lost weight during their time here because it felt like he was hardly eating anything. "Are you hungry? Or... well do you feel up to eating anything?" Dean knew Sam was never really hungry, he wasn't really more than broken on most occasions.

"Maybe if I worry about you..." Sam's fingers were still there on his brother's neck, fingers moving gently, "maybe that gives me a reason to get better." Offering up a half smile Sam tried to figure out what was going on in his brother's head. "Are... are you okay, Dean? I never... I never ask you." He'd become so centered on himself, lost inside all his pain.

Smiling softly Dean nodded, "sure Sam. I'm fine. Just worried about you is all." Dean kept telling himself if Sam could just get better then things would straighten themselves out. He knew Sam would never really be _over_ Jess but he'd move on, start living again, maybe even go back to school and finish things off. Dean internally flinched away from the idea of Sam leaving again and turned to the side to grab a rag, trying not to sigh when Sam's fingers fell away from his skin. "So... food? You should at least try and eat something."

"If you tell me the truth." Sam pushed himself up. "What do you think about all the time while we're here? Sometimes, when you look at me... it's like you're somewhere else." As oblivious as Sam seemed to most things -there was always that little brother part of him watching Dean. He'd been watching Dean his whole life. Looking to Dean to show him what to do, how to act.

Staring down at the ground Dean shrugged and rubbed his fingers along his brow, "mostly I think about you." Looking back up Dean tried a smile, lip tilting up then dropping a moment later. "You know... I spend most times by myself, I guess I'm just used to being quiet," he shrugged once more and pushed back slightly to stand. This wasn't the time for this conversation, for any topic that would only add more pressure to the weight on Sam's shoulders. "So, ham and cheese? Pasta? What sounds good?" Dean took a step back, gesturing toward the door.

"Sandwich is fine," Sam said. He shifted to the side of the bed, dropping his bare feet down to the floor. "Even though you lied to me." He smiled, probably his first real smile since the fire. _Always_ the protector, Dean.

Glancing over his shoulder as he headed out the door, calling behind him, "oh yeah? What did I lie about?" The brief flash of a smile on Sam's face made Dean's heart quicken, palms dampening with the weird sensation and Dean groaned quietly at himself.

"Okay," Sam raised his voice so Dean could hear him, "maybe it wasn't lying - maybe it was just not saying everything." Pulling some thick wool socks on, Sam shuffled out to the kitchen. Dean was already at the counter getting the bread out. Leaning against the counter Sam reached out and pulled a piece of fluff out of Dean's hair. "I'm not stupid, ya know." Turning, Sam walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open so he could fetch the ham and cheese. "Been watching my big brother my whole life. I wasn't quiet for no reason when I was a little kid; was paying attention to everything." Sam tugged on the wrapping around the cheese keeping his ointment covered fingers clear of the actual food.

Chuckling softly Dean shook his head and walked over to take the cheese and place it on the bread on the cutting board, "yeah Sam, you're oh-so-wise in the ways of Dean." He glanced over at his brother before pressing the knife down into a jar of mayonnaise. "I do think about you mostly," he pointed out, pulling ham from the container to add to the sandwich. "You know... how could I not right? You're mostly all I ever think about," Dean cut the sandwich in half, clenching his jaw as he stared down at it and considered what he could say to make those words take on a different meaning than they held.

The words kind of settled Sam's mind. Not that he'd wanted to be the thing that his brother thought about all the time, but it made his decision make more sense. "I'm not going back to school. If you'll let me," Sam looked down at the counter, "I wanna stay with you."

Blinking slowly Dean wrestled with the conflicting parts of him, trying not to feel _too_ relieved. "If... if you're sure. You know that you'll have a place with me whenever you want it... I just don't... I mean... you worked so hard Sammy. If ... you have to be sure," Dean stepped toward him, hand reaching out to curve along his hip and squeeze softly. "Give it some more time; I don't want you regretting that choice later on." Dean's heart was pulsing a steady _stay, stay, stay_ but he channelled his big brother attitude as best he could.

"I've made up my mind, but if it's gonna make you feel better I can tell you again in a few weeks." Sam shifted closer, the heat of Dean's hand on his hip making him feel a little bit alive. "You're all I've got." Leaning forward he hesitated then slid his arms around Dean, pulling him into a warm embrace. "You've really ... always been..." Clearing his throat Sam stepped back. "We need to get back in shape if we're gonna be hunting."

Dean's eyes stayed closed for a few seconds too long, drinking in the too brief warmth from the hug. Blinking his eyes open he met Sam's gaze for a moment before turning and grabbing the sandwich, holding the plate out for Sam. "You're right. We should start doing some running in the sand. You're probably really rusty, gonna be like teaching you all over again," Dean huffed, tried for a laugh before starting to make a second sandwich. "Think you'll feel up to something this afternoon?"

Nodding, Sam took his plate and walked over to sit on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. "Yeah, a hike maybe." His eyes drifted to the window and the lighthouse far off in the distance. "The lighthouse? Have you been up there already?"

"No, thought I'd wait for you," Dean glanced at the window before looking back down at his sandwich. "Just promise me you'll take it easy, don't overexert yourself. Your lungs are still pretty weak from the smoke okay? It's gonna take some time," finishing up making the food Dean walked out of the kitchen and dropped down beside his brother.

Sam nodded again and took a bite of his sandwich. Chewing slowly, he thought maybe if he worked hard enough he could kill this _thing_ and get back a little bit of his life.

-=-=-=-

Sam threw his duffel in the truck of the car leaving the truck open for Dean. Walking around to the passenger side of the car he leaned against the door, arms folded, staring out at the ocean. It had been hard to convince Dean that he was ready to hunt again, almost impossible; but Sam had started to wonder if it was just about Dean being a little stuck - not knowing how to fix things. The problem was that Dean had fixed things for Sam his entire life. Maybe though, this time - there was no fixing. He watched his brother lock up the cabin and head down to the car, tossing his own duffel in the trunk and waited for him to come round and lean against the car, shoulders close but not touching.

"It's hard to leave here," Sam said.

"I'm always leaving somewhere," Dean pointed out, staring at the ocean and watching the gentle roll of waves along the sand. "Guess even when you don't really belong anywhere you still have to get up and join the real world," he shrugged and looked down at Sam's hands, still slightly red but free of almost all the blisters. "You sure you're ready for this?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. I gotta do this. You're not gonna keep asking me are you?" Sam half smirked, half frowned. He was going to get back at this, get after the thing that kept destroying things for his family.

Looking at Sam for a long moment Dean frowned before shaking his head and pushing off the car, walking around the front and tugging open the driver's side, "so what direction should we head? I could call Bobby and see if he's got anything that needs looking into." Dean wasn't necessarily sure that Sam was ready for this but he trusted his brother, and he'd be there, have his back if needed.

"South. I'm cold." Sam yanked his door open and climbed in, he hadn't been in the car since they'd arrived and it felt a little strange. "You trust me to... hold my own right?" Sam turned, head slightly tilted, eyes on Dean's face. It was important.

"I trust you with my life," Dean pointed out, meeting Sam's eyes so the man knew he was being honest. That's what it meant to hunt together, to trust your partner to have your back. "And you know Sam, there's not much further south we can go unless you want to cross the border." Dean laughed softly and started the car up, heading down the bath. "How about Texas? Sure we can find something there." Dean's hand twitched out across the seat toward his brother, fingers curling together before he patted Sam's thigh briefly and withdrew.

"I like Texas." Sam looked out the windshield and wiggled further down on the seat to get comfortable. "You gonna let me drive sometimes?"

Chuckling softly Dean nodded, "sure Sam, whatever you want." It was a bit like his most recent mantra and the words felt so easy on his tongue he really didn't mind. "Oh, hey," Dean reached behind him and dug around the back until his fingers curled around a large book. "I found this at this bookstore in the town, not sure if it's fiction or something actually legitimate but... thought it might help," Dean offered Sam the thick volume, fingers sliding over the worn cover.

Sam's fingers ran over the old cover, tracing the design with his finger before he opened it and flipped through some of the pages. "Thanks." There was some stuff in it that looked like it was worth reading, Sam could smell the old paper - musty and strange. "Do you have a credit card - I need a new laptop." Each time he thought about something he didn't have it kind of felt like a little step backwards.

"Oh," Dean pursed his lips and stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket. Pulling out an envelope he tossed it toward Sam and shrugged, "fake card. You can fill out the info or I can, whatever." It had been awhile since he had to think finances for two people and he made a note to ensure Sam's darts and pool skills were up to snuff. "I think I have enough on one of my cards. We'll swing by an electronic store in Texas." Dean kept shooting looks at Sam through his sunglasses, quietly studying him.

"What?" Sam huffed softly, rooting around in the glove box for a pen.

"What, what?" Dean shot back easily, eyes fixing out the windshield.

"You keep lookin' at me. I'm not gonna grow an extra limb or anything." Sam found a pen and smacked the glove box closed. Propping his knees up against the dash he tried to fill out the form. "So- what you looking for?"

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged, "has it ever occurred to you that maybe I just like looking at you?" He suggested quietly and tightened his fingers on the wheel. "I'll try my best to ensure I keep it to a minimum in the future.”

Sam snorted. "Yeah, I'm great to look at - I look like Frankenstein." Sam turned further away; suddenly glad he was sitting on the passenger side. He shrugged. "You can look."

Reaching out Dean punched Sam lightly in the shoulder, "you _are_ great to look at." He could feel Sam's eyes glance his way but added nothing more on the subject.

This car ride wasn't as quiet as the one that had brought them to the cabin but it was close. Sam didn't have much to say about things and Dean's half attempts at conversation ended almost as quickly as they began. Dean was sad... which was hard to explain but easy to write off. There had been little but sadness surrounding them for the past three weeks since Jess. It would be better now though, Dean told himself, getting on with life, hunting, doing all those things he knew so well. And, no matter how much it occasionally ached, Dean was more than pleased to have Sam back in his life. The circumstances were shit, but Sam would always be his _something_ and Dean wouldn't lose site of that.

They drove straight through. When Dean was too tired Sam took over. Why they decided not to stop along the way Dean wasn't sure, simply that it went unspoken and seemed a little like they needed to be as far from that past as could be. Dean called up a few hunters he'd known throughout the years and managed to locate a hunt for them just north of Austin. It was simply, a poltergeist with a thing for single women, and Dean knew it would be something Sam could pour some serious energy into.

The motel was familiar in the way they all were and Dean tossed his bag on the floor just inside the door before stepping back and letting Sam know he'd be back in a few. It could possibly have been a sign of how much he felt for his brother, considering the first order of their trip was to track down an electronics store. It occurred to him that he should have brought Sam along with him, since he had no idea which laptop was a good purchase, but the woman was more than willing to explain. Dean didn't even realize the obvious signs of her flirting until after he'd purchased the computer and was halfway home.

"Here," he said by way of greeting as he stepped into the motel room, dropping the bag with the computer box onto the bed.

Sam reached down and snagged the handle on the bag. "What is it?" He dragged the bag up on to his lap and rooted around until he pulled the laptop box out. "Sweet." Sam pried the box open and dragged the computer out, tossing plastic and Styrofoam around him onto the bed. After he had it all connected he plugged it in to charge up the battery. "Thanks, dude." Scratching at the side of his head he looked up at Dean. "Not looking forward to checking my email."

Nodding, Dean looked around the room slowly and rolled his shoulders, "yeah I don't blame you. So well... I'll just leave you to that. I'm gonna..." Dean's gaze lingered on his brother for a long minute before settling on the bed. "Nap. I'm gonna nap," he kicked his shoes off and slid out of his jacket, tossing it over the edge of the chair and trying to shake the weird weight pressing in on his chest.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam closed the top of the laptop and peered at Dean over the nightstand.

"Excuse me?" Dean looked up from the ground, one sock half on his foot. His lips quirked up slightly and he snorted, "gee thanks, Sam. I only just spent a thousand bucks on you but whatever." Dean dropped his gaze once more and finished tugging the sock off, starting on the button along his jeans next.

"You're different, sad and shit all the time. You'd think it was your girlfriend who died." Sam wasn't sure what made him say it or whether it was the hurt look on Dean's face or the sharp pain in his own chest that made him feel worse. "That was stupid... a stupid thing to say."

"Yeah, it was," Dean nodded and dropped down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry Sam, how would you prefer I be? It's not like you even really know me anyone." Dean looked up at his brother and sighed. "I haven't been sleeping well, that's all. I'm fine. I'll be even better when we get back on with things," rubbing his hand along the back of his neck Dean slid across the mattress to drop back.

"Is that it? Is it because I've been away... was away? Are you pissed at me?" Sam pushed up onto his elbow so he could see Dean's face.

Glancing toward him, Dean shook his head slowly, "pissed at you? God Sam, if I was pissed at you don't you think you would know? Would I even be here if I was?"

"So, what the fuck does that mean then? I _don't even really know you_? How am I supposed to process that?" Sam sat up. Maybe he didn't know Dean anymore, hell; sometimes he wasn't sure he knew himself.

"Because you've been barely a part of my life for the last four years, and obviously I've changed. So you keep saying how I'm so quiet, so lost in thought, maybe that's just how I _am_ now," Dean pushed up so he was sitting as well, spinning to face his brother. "Think about it Sam, would you say I knew you now? Really? Aren't you different from the eighteen year old boy that I..." Dean trailed off and shrugged.

Sam's eyes snapped up to his brother's. "That you what?"

"I..." Dean groaned and flopped back on the bed once more. "What does it matter Sam? Like you said, moving on and stuff, and now it's..." Dean's mind supplied the _it's too late_ automatically and he pressed his eyes closed. "Remember how you said you lied... when we... did that stuff. You lied and said it didn't matter. I... I lied too..." his fingers curled and clenched together, eyes remaining safely closed.

"What's the truth?" Sam wasn't letting Dean get away with closing down. Whatever they had left was... _them_.

"That I wanted to do that, I wanted to do more than that," Dean whispered, eyes slowly peeling open to stare at the ceiling. "I enjoyed it. It was never just a... thing or experimenting or whatever the hell I said it was," Dean rolled on the mattress to face away from his brother. "Can we stop discussing this now?"

"No." Sam shifted further down the bed, staring at the hard line of his brother's shoulders. "Why didn't you say something then? Back then...." Sam knew why _he_ hadn't said something. He didn't want to be the one who changed everything between them.

Wetting his lips Dean flopped back on his back, giving up on trying to stop this from happening. Obviously Sam was committed to discussing this now, though why it should matter after four years Dean wasn't completely sure. "How could I say anything? Sam you were in pain, had just downed more whiskey than you'd had in your life, and taken meds, how was I suppose to know how much... I mean... that you wanted that _really_? And then... you were leaving. I didn't want to fuck up your future, risk our friendship because I _love_ you or something," Dean draped his forearm over his shoulder and sighed. "Am I even making sense?"

"You love me?" Sam's blood ran a little cold.

Dropping his arm back onto the bed Dean pushed up and slid off the mattress, "you know what? We're done with this conversation. You don't need this shit right now, so just... drop it okay? It's better for both of us." Dean didn't want to admit to it, didn't want to put it out there and hear Sam say he couldn't, too soon, too much. He headed to the fridge and dipped down to pull out a beer, "want one?"

"You can't just throw that out there and then tell me _we_ are done talking. That's not cool, man." Sam just sat there, not quite knowing whether he'd heard what he'd thought or if he was just completely losing his mind. That latter wasn't an unlikely possibility.

"What the fuck do you want me to do?" Dean spun on him, swallowing thick around the swell of aggravation rising up in him. "I'm _trying_. I'm doing what I can and I'm not bringing up any of this shit because I know it's too much. I don't want to tell you I love you and not..." Dean sighed heavily and shook his head.

"And not?" Sam shook his head slowly. "You wanna finish a sentence or two? I'm gettin' really confused over here." Folding his arms Sam huffed out a breath. Talking to Dean had always been like pulling teeth but now it seemed even worse.

Rounding on him Dean's control slipped and he snapped, fingers curling into tight fists. "Why can't you just drop it? Do you want me to tell you how I'm fucking in love with you? How I'm terrified to say anything because I _know_ it's too soon? Because I _know_ I'm gonna hear something I don't want to hear. Would you like to hear how I've spent the past four years telling myself that I'm _happy_ for you because that's what I'm supposed to do?" Dean's lungs deflated in time with his energy and he turned slowly around.

Sam shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. "That, uh, wasn't quite what I had in mind. No." Swallowing he stared at Dean's back for a while then looked down at his hands. "I'm gonna go get a beer. I'll be back in a while." Pushing up off the bed, Sam walked over and grabbed his jacket. Stalling behind Dean he reached out then thought better of actually touching him. "I'll be back," he said quietly, "okay?"

"Whatever," Dean dropped his head and crossed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind and leaning hard against the wood. By this point those stupid things tangling up in him probably shouldn't have hurt so much but it seemed like more and more recently he wasn't completely prepared for what happened next. Sinking down to the ground Dean sighed and slammed his head back, " _stupid_."

Standing by the Motel room door, Sam rolled his shoulders a few times. He was still stiff, getting used to being physical again and then sitting in the car to drive. Shrugging out of his jacket he paced over to the bathroom door and banged on it a couple of times hard with his fist. "Come on out, let's talk." He stood there for a moment listening.

"I think it's better if we don't," Dean said through the door, sighing heavily. "Just go out Sam, or... please... can we just... not?" It was too much to talk about this, too heavy on his shoulder, too much for Sam.

"Dean?" Sam let his head thud against the door. "Come out of the fuckin' bathroom." Sam huffed out a small laugh, hardly able to believe he was having this conversation with his brother. It was reminiscent of when they were kids - well, when Sam was a teenager himself and would get a bee up his ass about something and lock himself in the bedroom. "If I have too I'll just sit on the floor out here, and then I'll just get bitchy because my ass will ache."

Sighing once more Dean pushed up off the floor and stared at the door for a long moment. "Well I don't really want to listen to you bitch," he muttered and pulled the door open, meaning to cross swiftly to his bed but drawing up short at Sam filling the doorway. "I'm mostly out of the bathroom, now can we stop this?" Dean felt a little like he was channelling some juvenile, repressed part of him he'd been ignoring for years and his arms folded across his chest.

Smiling, Sam tilted his head and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, this is a step in the right direction. At least I can take a leak now if I need to." Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So... you kind of like me more than..." Sam shrugged and sucked in a breath through his nose.

Rolling his eyes slightly Dean half turned to lean against the door frame. "Yeah, kind of." Dean's shoulders lifted and dropped a moment later. "Didn't you want to check out your new computer? You should... do that." Dean gestured to it vaguely, head falling back against the wood.

"What do I do with you?" Sam asked quietly.

Lifting his head slowly Dean turned to look at him, eyebrows lifted. "Excuse me?"

"What do I do? How do I make this better?" Sam felt like everything was kind of falling away from him, drifting, a bit like he was cut loose. "There's nothing in me right now, for anything... I mean... you know how I feel... felt about you... right now, everything's just all fucked up you know?"

"Felt..." Dean repeated slowly and shrugged, forced a laugh. "I'm sorry Sam. This is... you know, it's just me channelling shit you know? I'm fine. We're fine. There's no need to fix anything, we're cool. So just... don't worry about it," Dean reached out and patted his shoulder before brushing past to head into the room. "I'll stop acting like a fuckin'... I don't know, whatever I've been acting like."

"I didn't mean felt," Sam sighed again and turned to follow Dean back to the main room. "Dean, things are all messed up in me - you get that right? I _loved_ Jess. That wasn't made up or fake." He sank down on the bottom of his bed.

"Can you stop?" Dean looked over at Sam, eyes almost pleading. "Can you just stop? Because I'm not _asking_ for anything. I don't want to hear any of this. I don't... I _know_ you loved Jess. And I'm not asking for... for _anything_ so just drop it before I can't take anymore. Please." Dean swallowed thickly and turned away, moving back to the almost forgotten beer by the mini-fridge.

Sam blinked a few times, watching Dean turn away yet again. He had a feeling that he might be seeing the way things were going to go for them. "Okay." He made sure that there was a definite _period_ at the end of that word. Pulling the new lap top off the nightstand Sam flipped it open and tried to reach some wireless. He was already feeling like shit so he might as well check his email.

"Okay," Dean repeated eventually and drained the bottle of beer before walking over to drop face first onto the mattress, muffling a groan.


	4. Chapter 4

They hunted. Sam fell back into line with what seemed to be the _Winchester_ way. Don't talk about things. Don't acknowledge anything that might be wrong. Don't. _Don't_. The strange thing was, the further they got from the night of the fire the more Sam felt like he was just disappearing. The trips in the car grew quieter. Probably - the two brothers spoke more when they were actually on a hunt than any other time. There was always that one thing they could count on - they'd never let anything happen to one of them on a hunt. Funny, it wasn't all that comforting to Sam in the long run.

He grew bitter with time; he felt a bit like Dean was stealing away his right to mourn Jess. Dean threw all that shit at him, using words like love and then shut down. Dean had never reminded Sam more of their father. But... he wasn't going through it like he was stuck on repeat. Sam stopped asking questions, he stopped trying to make things better, he just stopped. It was easy. There wasn't much left inside of him with the energy to fight. Losing Jess... _losing_ Jess - it had used him up - and if Dean expected him to fight to keep them together, well, it just wasn't going to happen. By the end of their third week on the road together - Sam was contemplating taking off on his own. Stanford wasn't an option anymore; he'd pretty much cut all his ties there. There was nothing he wanted to learn anymore. But he couldn't hunt on his own, find the creature that killed his girlfriend, his mother. Alone, he wouldn't have to deal with the silence in the motel room at night, the urges he fought to touch his brother's shoulder - reach out for him.

When they stopped driving for another case, Sam wasn't even sure where they were. Dean had probably told him, but the words were so few and far between they all kind of clumped together in his mind. Whatever it was, wherever it was, Dean would tell him eventually what he needed to know. By the time Dean turned off the ignition Sam was already out of the car and halfway to the office. He was getting two rooms. There was no way he could take another night of _not_ talking about the gigantic elephant standing in the middle of the room. And hell - maybe he could go out and meet someone. Take a page from Dean's book. A page from Dean's _old_ book - it had been a while since he'd seen his brother even flirt with someone. Tossing a room key at his brother Sam grabbed his duffel out of the truck. "Separate rooms."

"What?" Dean palmed the key in his hand, feeling his heart sink with each slide along the plastic and metal. "But we..." he stared at Sam for a long minute before sighing and pushing his bag further up his shoulder. "Fine. Fucking fine," he spat and headed toward the room number displayed on the key. Dean didn't know what to do, didn't know how he'd lost grip on the entire situation. It felt like everything was just pressing in on him from all sides and the pressure was causing him to bend and buckle, breaking his heart in a way he'd never expected. Dean kicked the door open and threw his bag inside, flinching when it connected into a lamp and sent it shattering to the ground. He slammed the door behind him and leaned heavily against the wood, wishing not for the first that he'd never said anything, never gone to see his brother out of the blue that day, never done _anything_.

Half of Sam's mind was fixated on going straight over the Dean's door, knocking and doing anything he had to do to get them to talk. The other half wanted to go out and get piss-drunk and pick someone up and fuck them. He threw his bag in his room and locked his door again, turned and walked off down the road.

-=-=-=-

Halfway through the fifteenth rotation of channels Dean decided that everything between him and Sam was reaching a breaking point. He had thought he was doing what was best, allowing Sam to have the time to mourn Jess before they sat down and properly discussed what happened next. This only turned into them hardly sharing a word, a heavy and empty silence between them that Dean had never thought possible. He left the channel on some late show and wandered through thoughts, trying to figure out a way that he could fix things, pull his brother back from the empty shell he'd become. Then it hit him that he was being just that way, had stopped trying to pick safe conversation topics, was simply falling into some fucked up routine that was killing them both.

Dean hadn't been sleeping that well and most nights he hardly realized when he was dosing off and when he was wide awake. He'd turned into a walking zombie of sorts and it was driving him crazy. So when the phone rang he wasn't too surprised to find himself still sitting propped up against the pillows with the TV on, remote half tilted in his hand. His eyes swept over to the clock, one am, and he frowned, pulling up the cell. The frown only deepened at his brother's name on the ID and he flipped it open, neck muscles stretching to the side as he placed it to his ear. "Sam?" He answered, voice rough from sleep.

"Are you... Dean? I'm... this is Evan. Well... that doesn't really matter... Are you Dean?"

"Yes, I'm Dean," he sat up straighter clearing his throat. "Why do you have Sam's phone?" He nearly growled, instinct causing him to slide off the bed and push to his feet, shoulders tense with nerves and worry.

"Chill man. You need to come get your boyfriend."

"My..." Dean frowned even as his body moved automatically toward his shoes. "My boyfriend? Sam? Where the fuck is he?" The questions coursed through his mind but Dean schooled them back, snatching the boots from the ground and moving quickly to pull them on.

"Yeah, floppy haired good lookin' dude. Tall fucker. We were gonna - well, we did - listen, I'm leaving him here - at the... Pine Resort on Baker street. S'room twelve. He's all yours."

Dean listened to the line click and pulled the phone back, staring at it in disbelief, "what the fuck?" He fumbled off the bed and grabbed his keys from the table, not even locking the motel room as he hurried to the car. He had no fucking _clue_ were Baker Street was so he half drove and pulled out the city map. It wasn't that big of a place and it took only ten minutes to find it, scanning along the room numbers until he found twelve and parked in front. "Did what?" He asked the empty quiet of the car, heart flaring with the pinch of jealousy as he pushed open the door and headed forward.

Pushing the door slowly open Dean nearly groaned as he caught sight of his brother. He was sprawled out on the bed, shirt open, pants undone and half off, hair sticking up in wild directions. "Sam?" He asked quietly and closed the door, crossing the room slowly. _Fuck_ he'd never seen his brother look quite like this, skin lightly flushed, chest rising and falling slowly. Sighing heavily he stepped forward and dropped down beside him, reaching out to grasp his shoulder, "Sam? Dude, wake up." Dean shook slightly, bent down and nearly recoiled at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath.

Blinking his eyes open in the half light of the room Sam rolled his head towards the familiar voice. " _You_ are not... not... what's his name." Sam arched up in a lazy bow off the bed, stretching out his back. "Evan," he blurted out. "You're not Evan." Lifting his head a little he looked around the room, "I've lost my drink." Scratching his bare stomach, Sam sat up after a couple of tries.

"I think you've had enough drinks," Dean said coldly and stood, curling fingers around Sam's arm gently to help him stand. " _Evan_ called to inform me my _boyfriend_ was here after you apparently did... something," Dean felt a little like he might be sick and he shook his head slowly to clear it. "Come on, let's get you back to the motel," he bent slightly to tug at Sam's jeans, pulling them up slowly, forehead pressing into Sam's hipbone for a moment as he dragged up.

Sam shook his head vigorously then swayed, dizzy. "I did _nothing_ ," he insisted. "Evan lied. Well, I did do... I kissed him... want me to show you... Oh..." he moaned and curled his fingers over Dean's shoulders. "Do... that again."

"Sam..." he whispered, body shivering slightly as the moan worked through his system. He let his forehead press into Sam's hipbone once more, legs bending before his knees fell down onto the carpet. "You... you brought him here to..." his nose brushed along the soft cotton of his boxers, mouth opening slightly as his fingers tightened around the denim still in his grasp.

"Red brown hair, green eyes, short," Sam laughed softly. "His eyes, Dean, they weren't the right colour..." Sam's fingers moved through his brother's hair, his hips rolling forward slightly. "Dean... I needed something... someone but it wasn't right." Sam's voice was thick, his words a little slurred. As far as Sam was concerned he was still entirely _too_ sober.

"Why did he call me your boyfriend?" Dean asked quietly, swallowing thickly as he brought a hand up, fingers sliding along the cotton just to the side of the steadily hardening bulge in Sam's boxers up to the elastic to trace just above the skin there.

Sam swayed forward into his brother's touch. "Told him," he whispered, "a secret." His fingers were still combing through Dean's hair.

The warmth from Sam's fingers sliding through his hair trailed down his spine and Dean inhaled shakily, pressing his fingers slowly beneath the elastic, "what... secret?" Dean knew Sam was drunk, knew this entire thing could blow up in his face, if not now than tomorrow, but this was what he _wanted_ and it was hard to keep his hand from nudging the boxers lower until Sam's hipbones were properly exposed and his nose could brush along the skin, mouth releasing a warm puff of air over the flesh.

"Ooohh," Sam's body started a slow tremble as heat flooded through his body. "I told him... that I... that..." Sam stumbled back a step, "was only with him 'cause he looked like you." Letting his head fall back, Sam panted softly, "just wanted you."

A soft growl left Dean's lips and pulled his hand back, letting it slide down the cotton before palming roughly against Sam's cock, sliding up the hard line through the boxers. "I want..." he released a slow breath before letting his lips press into the skin stretched over Sam's hipbone, sucking slowly and flicking his tongue out. His knees shifted forward slightly as his free hand pressed down on the jeans once more, pushing them back down.

Moaning, Sam lifted his head, "Dean..." stepping back he sank down on to the bed, hands reaching out and curling over his brother's shoulders. "Please..." Sam's fingers urged his brother closer, "don't be mad anymore." His eyelids were heavy, heat flooding to his skin.

"Not mad," Dean murmured, tugging along the bottom of Sam's jeans and pulling until the material slid free and dropped to the side. Dipping down he pressed his lips to the inside of Sam's thighs, shifting closer before looking up at into his brother's slightly lax features. "Are you going to remember this tomorrow? Are you still going to want it then?" His fingers curled over Sam's thighs, pushing up to edge along the line of cotton.

Shrugging, Sam smiled, "who cares..." he murmured and let himself slide forward off the edge of the bed so he was straddling Dean's legs. Circling his arms around Dean's neck he leaned in, a heavy weight against his brother's chest. Sam's lips were tingling before they even touched Dean's. He still remembered that kiss from so long ago; he could still feel it at night when he was dreaming. Wet lips pressed against Dean's, Sam moaned, sucking his way along his brother's full bottom lip. "Taste good," he mumbled.

Dean's shoulders were tense, heart clenching painfully and he dug his fingers into Sam's hipbones, pushing him off enough to slide free and climb to his feet. "Get up. Get dressed. I'm taking you back to the motel," he turned his back on Sam and stepped away, trying not to linger over the way his lips seemed to be sparking in time with the words _who cares_ echoing through his mind.

"Wha..." Sam reached for Dean's leg and missed slipping backwards and falling against the nightstand. "What's wrong with you?" Blinking, Sam pulled himself up using the quilt and fumbled with his jeans for what felt like _forever_. Turning away from Dean he adjusted himself and finally managed to yank his jeans up. Falling against the mattress Sam turned and stared at Dean. "What did I do?" Swearing softly, he launched himself across the room to where he could see his coat was lying across the back of a chair.

Watching Sam with guarded eyes, Dean's fingers dug into his coat pocket for his keys. "I care. I _fucking_ care if you remember this tomorrow. You wanna go fuck a random stranger, I'm not gonna stop you, but you don't get to use me that way. So if you really want me, it's gonna be on different terms." As Sam fumbled to get into his coat Dean headed for the door, tugging it open and turning back to make sure Sam didn't pass out or something.

"Not random," Sam muttered. He'd spent a lot of time trying to find someone who looked like Dean. It was absolutely and completely _not_ random. "I.. I don't want you... always pushing me away..." Giving up on his jacket Sam strode toward the door with it only half way up onto his arms. "S'like living with someone who hates me." Shoving roughly past Dean he made sure that he slammed his hand hard into Dean's chest.

"Yeah because me saying I _love_ you totally means I hate you," Dean growled and slammed the motel door shut, not caring about the late hour or the other people staying there. This was clearly one of those motels used for random hook ups anyway. He headed for the car and yanked the door open, sliding in and waiting for Sam. That helpless, empty void of the past few weeks was closing in on him and the moment the door open he said in a rush, "I was trying to give you time. I thought you _needed_ it. I didn't want it to seem like I didn't care how you were feeling. I wanted to wait until you were ready for more with me without it feeling like a rebound fuck."

"You've been too busy feeling sorry for yourself to know how I was feeling." Sam tried once more to button up his shirt and gave up, folding his arms across his chest. "Let's go." He looked out the window and then let his forehead thump down into the glass. "Won't talk to me..." he murmured. He was aching, tired and aching from trying to understand his brother and what was going on between them.

Dean slammed the heel of his palm hard into the steering wheel and cursed loudly, half tempted to just start the car and drive them both over a bridge. He'd never been so fucking _miserable_ in his life. "Maybe we should just get away from each other," Dean muttered as he spun the wheels and backed up, shooting a glance at his brother. "Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it. Separate rooms? That's the first sign right? Next I'm gonna wake up and you're just gonna be gone. Because apparently I'm just some selfish fuck who doesn't give a fucking _damn_ about you anyway. Not like I haven't tried to give you _everything_." Dean screeched to a halt at a red light, nostrils flaring as his fingers tightened over the wheel.

Sam yanked the door open and stumbled out of the car then managed to coordinate himself enough to run. He couldn't take it anymore. If he stayed it was wrong, if he touched Dean it was wrong, whatever he did was wrong. His eyes were too full of tears to see the curb in front of him and he tripped sprawling on the sidewalk for a few moments before crawling back up to his feet and darting down a dark alley. All he kept thinking was _fuck you, Dean_. He'd never have left Dean. Never.

"Fuck," Dean nearly screamed, jerking the car over to the side of the road and kicking the door open. He took off after his brother, panting heavily through his nose. Dean used the strength in his legs, and his clear sobriety, to gain ground, reaching out and snagging Sam's coat sleeve. "Sam, stop," he grunted, tugging on him hard to spin him around.

Spinning around Sam swung his fist at his brother's face. It glanced off Dean's jaw and slammed into the brick wall beside him instead and Sam cried out in frustration and pain. "Leave... me alone," he groaned softly. "I can't d..do this anymore. Everything... it's all my fault."

"Jesus Christ Sam it's not your fucking fault," Dean grabbed at him once more, curling his fingers around Sam's upper arms to keep him in place. "None of it's your fault. You didn't kill Jess, you didn't make _this_ happen. I understand that you feel like everything's fucking killing you but you have to pull back from that, you _have_ to before it does kill you," he shook Sam slightly with each emphasis on his words.

Panting, chest heaving as he tried to suck in air, Sam blinked rapidly then squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. When he opened them Dean was still right there, _right_ there. Surging forward Sam crushed his mouth against Dean's; he felt his lip get pinched between their teeth and moaned into his brother's mouth. Arms still held by Dean, Sam pushed forward with his body, leaning hard against Dean until they were stumbling backwards across the alley and landing against the opposite wall. He felt the breath shoot out of Dean's lungs, felt it across his mouth and his tongue.

Dean sucked a breath hard through his nose and tightened his arms hard around Sam, squeezing him hard against his chest. His mouth opened around a moan as their kiss took on an almost more savage, hard pace. Teeth slid along lips, blood sparked across his tongue and Dean's hands slid up to Sam's hair, threading into the locks and pulling roughly. He groaned as Sam's teeth grazed over his tongue, hips jerking forward as the previously angry heat bubbled into something more.

Sliding down his brother's body, Sam's hands landed on Dean's belt. Tugging it loose, he undid the button and zipper tugging his brother's jeans down with one hand and pushing his t-shirt up with the other. Biting and sucking at the warm, sweat-damp flesh of Dean's abs - Sam moaned. Turning his gaze up he stared at Dean for a few moments, panting softly, "I will remember." His voice was thick and rough, quiet, strained and he didn't wait for a reply. Curling his fingers over the waistband of Dean's boxers Sam tugged hard, freeing his brother's already hard cock. Gasping in a deep breath Sam's lips ghosted up his brother's hard length and he turned his gaze up once more. "Tell me to stop... " he panted, chin grazing Dean's heat, "last chance."

Moaning softly, Dean's head fell back into the wall, scraping along the brick as his hips lifted up toward the touch. "Don't fuckin' stop," he growled, fingers twisting in Sam's hair, eyes fixing down on him before he brought him forward, wanting to feel the heat of his mouth. Dean's tongue swept across his lips, chasing the lingering taste of blood, Sam and stale alcohol. Somewhere in the distance a horn honked and Dean's heart skipped a beat. "Do it Sam," he demanded, voice thick and hoarse with arousal.

Shuddering as desire flooded through him Sam shifted slightly to the side, licked his lips and dropped his eyes. His tongue darted out past his swollen lip to flick across the head of his brother's cock. The salty slick sensation of pre-come sent a shiver straight down Sam's body. As his hips rolled forward he moaned, parted his lips and sank his mouth down over his brother's hard flesh. Swallowing, tongue swirling, Sam struggled to breathe at the same time as his heart started to thump and flutter in his chest. Dean's flesh was salty and hot. _Dean's flesh_. Hollowing his cheeks Sam sucked hard, tongue circling the fiery flesh.

The feel of Sam's mouth over his cock made Dean's knees weak and he sank back against the wall, pulling in deep breaths, fingers cupping along Sam's head. " _Fuck_ , Sam..." he breathed, rocking his hips forward in gentle thrusts forward into the wet heat. Dean's blood was pulsing in his veins, mind reeling from how they'd gotten from one place to _here_ so fast. Dean's eyes dropped and he groaned loudly as he took in the sight of Sam on his knees before him, lips stretched around red swollen flesh.

Somewhere in Sam's mind he was shocked as fuck. Not only had he never given a blow job before, this was _Dean_. But _God_ , it was quieting so many of the voices that had been screaming at him to do something... fix something... be something. Pulling the V of denim further apart Sam curled one arm around Dean's thigh - half holding him up - and slid his long fingers around the base of Dean's cock. Lips and fingers sliding together, gliding up and back down over Dean's rigid flesh Sam could only moan and try to gasp in air when he could. When he pulled back far enough he let his tongue skim across the slit; when he sank down deep enough he could feel Dean cock graze the back of his throat. It was hot and Sam moaned, feeling the vibration in his mouth and on Dean's skin.

Every little sensation coursed through Dean on overload and it had been far too _long_ since he'd felt something so good. The fact that Sam was the one making him feel like this had Dean's orgasm surging forward. Sam's mouth and lips were just a step away from frantic, constantly moving and searching and touching every inch of him. "S-Sam I..." he groaned in warning, hip's snapping out once more and dropping back.”M'gonna..." he moaned, tugging at Sam's head to pull him back slightly as sparks shot up his spine as his balls pulled up and his release pumped forward.

The heat of Dean's come pulsing into his mouth made Sam's hips snap forward. He panicked for a few moments not quite knowing what to do then swallowed, breathed in through his nose and it all sort of worked. Tongue curling and flicking, he sucked and swallowed every last bit of heat that shot into his mouth.

Shuddering and twitching he pressed hard against Dean's leg, fingers curled tight into the denim covering his brother's thigh. Finally, after far too short a time he felt Dean start to go soft and pulled back. Sucking in a few deep breaths of cool night air, Sam pressed his face against his brother's hip - the musky smell of sex and Dean wrapping around him.

Dean's head rested back against the brick as his body steadily calmed, cooled, and his heart returned to normal. There were likely a thousand things he could say but Dean didn't dare touch any of them. Instead he tugged on Sam's arm, pulling him up the length of his body until their lips could meet once more. Dean's hands instantly slid between them, pressing down into his chest and sliding low until he could feel the heat of Sam's cock through denim. His fingers fumbled with the button and zipper, small hiss falling into the kiss as his ass brushed against the rough and cold wall behind him. The moment Sam's pants were undone he was shoving his hand roughly down, grasping the hard flesh and pulling him free of cotton and denim, stroking up along the rigid line in several quick slides.

Sam moaned loudly, arms curling almost instantly around his brother's neck - knuckles scraping along the wall. He was so close, so many feelings and sensations flooding through his body. Just the heat of Dean's hand, the rough palm sliding against his aching cock was all it took for his body to give way to a shuddering orgasm. Shoulders curling forward he collapsed against Dean, hips rolling his cock forward as his release pulsed out, throb after almost-painful throb. Mouth open, wet, still sucking in air he turned and kissed Dean even as the last of his pleasure rippled through him.

Holding Sam against his body, Dean let the kisses melt from overheated, slowly cooling out until they moved in gentle slides together. "Sam..." he whispered against his brother's lips, eyes closed as he held him mostly up. "That was really fucking good," he chuckled quietly, resting his forehead against Sam's and running a tongue over his swollen lips.

Smiling, Sam could feel his body slowing down, calming. "MMhhmmm." His legs were weak and he was exhausted and sore but there was something different, that empty place in his chest ached a little less. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean whispered slowly, gently nudging Sam up so he could bend to pull at his jeans. As the cool of the night settled on him Dean realized they'd been a little crazy to do this in some alley with his car pulled off at the side of the road and his lips twitched in a slight smirk.

"I... really need to put some ice on my knuckles." Laughing softly, Sam turned and buried his face in Dean's neck, sucking gently on his brother's neck. _Yeah_ , this felt better.

"Yeah, way to punch the wall," Dean pointed out with a slightly louder chuckle. Tension was almost melting off his shoulders, falling away and to the sides and Dean basked in the relief of it all. They were by no means _fixed_ but it felt like their battle had at least reached a breaking point. Shifting slightly he helped Sam straighten his clothes enough to make it to the car. "Hey Sam? I promise to start talking more okay? So can... can we share a room again?" He glanced at Sam and hooked an arm over his shoulder to pull him out of the alley.

Sighing, Sam nodded. "I... it wasn't what you thought. I'd never... leave..." Sam looked at Dean from under his bangs. "I know..." He hooked his fingers over Dean's belt, "I know that things aren't okay... but... I don't want to be anywhere else." Blinking he tried to push his hair off his face.

Dean turned into Sam slightly and pressed a hard kiss to his temple, "good, I don't want you anywhere else." He sighed softly and rolled his neck slowly, feeling exhaustion creeping in on him. For the first time in awhile Dean thought he might actually be able to _sleep_ and the idea suddenly sounded really appealing. They broke apart as they arrived at the car, Dean feeling slightly relieved that she was right where he'd left her and he slid behind the wheel, waiting for Sam to join him. "Stay in my room tonight?" He asked, slipping the car into drive the moment the door closed.

Nodding, Sam slid down on the seat and closed his eyes.

-=-=-=-

Sam did remember the next morning. It was hard to forget when he woke up plastered to Dean's back, knuckles throbbing from where they'd connected with the wall and a clear view of a dark bruise on his brother’s neck shaped a hell of a lot like Sam's mouth.

He remembered finding a bar and finding a few too many beers before Evan found him. But, Evan worked because he was the same height as Dean, green eyes and short reddish brown hair. The problem was - he wasn't Dean - he was some stranger who smelled all wrong and sounded all wrong and spoke too close to Sam's ear. He'd thought he could do it, get a motel room, let the guy fuck him, kill whatever that aching want was inside of him. Evan didn't have the answers and Sam also remembered the look on Evan's face when Sam had blurted out, "you're not Dean."

It was after that... things got a little crazy in Sam's mind. It wasn't the alcohol that screwed him up, it was everything else.

Deans' mouth, Sam's bare hip, the moans, the heat and unfamiliar taste throbbing into his mouth. Sam shifted closer to his brother's sleeping form. Dean smelled right; leather, gun oil and the interior of his car. Sam draped his arm over Dean's midsection and nuzzled into his brother's hair.

It wasn't a solution. What they found in that alley was a very shaky beginning. That hint of a way back that had eluded them for weeks. Nerves a bit raw Sam shifted back a little.

Dean wasn't a replacement for Jess; just like Jess hadn't replaced Dean. They were two separate, independent things; two roads that never merged. Well - except when they'd crashed together inside Sam. Sighing, he ran his hand up to Dean's chest the stiffened slightly when he felt his brother stirring; nerves sharp, unsure of how Dean would react.

Before his eyes even opened Dean felt _Sam_ and his heart instantly kick started. Truthfully, a part of him were terrified to open his eyes, to start this day and head down whatever path their conversation would send them. Everything had been so tense, heavy silence and Dean wanted to avoid that at all costs. Blinking his eyes open slowly Dean was instantly treated to the sleepy soft curves of Sam's face, the scar along his face only a faint red now, slowly fading. "Mornin'," he mumbled, coughing slightly to clear his throat. His fingers spread wide and pressed into Sam's back, keeping him close.

Relief flooded through Sam's body as soon as Dean's fingers pressed into his back. Sinking back into the mattress he realized how much he'd tensed as soon as his brother's eyes had fluttered open. "Hi," Sam didn't bother trying to hide and smile the tugged at his lips. "We're okay." For once, there wasn't a questioning tone in his voice.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and slid his hand up to the back of Sam's neck, pulling him in and forward to bring their lips together. It was a pretty relative term, _okay_ , but for now they were something close to it at least. He settled back onto the pillow after a few gentle slides of their mouths, small and pleased sigh falling from his lips. "How's your hand?" He asked softly, lips lifting in a slight smile.

"Hurts like fuck." Sam laughed softly. He felt a little like he deserved it and a lot like he was glad that he had been drunk enough to miss Dean's chin. "Feels like a fitting punishment." Shifting so he could rest his chin on his brother's chest he looked up at Dean's face. It reminded him of when they were young, lying around watching movies. Well, Dean watching a movie, Sam watching his brother.

Sliding his thumb slowly down Sam's scar, stopping along the top and covering the entire length, Dean hummed softly, "your poor hands." Chuckling softly Dean continued his gentle trailing along the scar and wet his lips, "put some ice on it later, pain meds and stuff, you're lucky you didn't break it. Also? I think I may have cut my ass on something on that wall." Dean laughed low in his throat, eyes open and closing slowly.

"Now, there's something only a real man could admit." Sam smiled, closing his eyes and trying to resist the urge to turn his face away from Dean's touch. "It's real manly... the... scar, huh?"

"Fuck yeah, it's hot," Dean grinned, lifting his head to peer down at his brother. "Makes you look all... tough. We'll work a little more on those muscles, get you all toned out then no one will want to fuck with you," he ruffled Sam's hair fondly, happily drinking in the relief and calm that made up this moment.

"I've got muscles," Sam muttered. Rolling slowly he settled against Dean's side, hand sliding down to hook over his brother's hip. _Still brothers._ He liked the way Dean's body felt under his hand and fought the urge to move his hands... well, everywhere. His fingers traced Dean's hip bone, firm, hard beneath the pads of his fingers. "One step at a time, yeah?" He couldn't see his brother's face, but he could feel that he was relaxed; no tension in his body.

Rolling his lips together Dean nodded and shifted up into the touch slightly, swallowing thickly, "Yeah... you set the pace, I'm glad to go along with whatever. Long as we're together." He tried to resist the urge to shift Sam's hand across his hips, somewhere low along his body.

"I...didn't do much with him, you know." Sam's fingers spread out wider, stretching the length of Dean's hip, then curling into the flesh slightly. "I mean ... I know what it looked like." Sam could feel heat seeping onto his cheeks and rubbed his cheek against his brother's chest.

"I know... you said..." Dean's hips lifted up slightly, rolling under the touch. "Just kissing. It's alright Sam... only up from here you know?" Dean stroked his hand along Sam's hair, massaging along the back of his neck. "We're gonna be good now, even if it takes awhile."

"'Kay." Sam's fingers drew back a little, slipping down the curve of Dean's hip, thumb dipping into his brother's belly button. "And..." Sam couldn't shut up, he _did_ try, "I won't leave... no matter... how we end up... _being_." Pressing his lips together he waited for the telltale tension to appear in Dean's body, a sign he'd said too much.

"Sam?" Dean hooked his fingers along the underside of Sam's arms and dragged him up, letting their eyes lock, "it's you and me okay? We'll do what we always do, roll with the punches. Whether this... you know... whatever happens? We're always gonna have each other." Dean tugged him down to bring their lips together, mouth slanting to the side, neck stretching up to press them more firmly together.

Hesitancy melting away, Sam let his lips drift open and sank forward into the kiss. Sober, he liked the way Dean kissed even more - it took him straight back to those first few tentative kisses a million years ago. His lips slid open and closed, sucking gentle kisses along his brother's mouth.

A soft moan fell from Dean's lips into the kiss and he curved up into him, pulling him close. "Sam..." he whispered, hand stroking down his side slowly. "You... you'll let me know... what's too much... yeah?" His fingers pressed around Sam's hip, squeezing gently.

Sam nodded slowly; lips breaking from his brother's to drag down his jaw. "Prickly," he murmured into Dean's stubble. It was different, stronger, the body beneath his fingers. He could feel hard muscle beneath silky skin and smiled as he dragged his hand slowly up to Dean's chest. Still nervous, ready to bolt if things changed he could feel his breaths coming faster, a little harder.

Curling his fingers around Sam's shoulders, Dean pushed slightly and rolled them, settling on top of Sam's body. "Relax," he whispered, lips colliding with Sam's for several long, rough moments before he dragged down along the expanse of the scar, open mouthed without pressure. His lips worked over along Sam's jaw, back down his neck, pulling along the flesh along his collar bone. "Wanna taste you... like you tasted me..." he murmured against Sam's chest, body sliding lower with each drag of his mouth.

Sam's body arched up slightly into his brother's mouth. It was like the opposite of the night before, calmer, less desperate, and he felt himself relaxing back against the mattress as his fingers smoothed over Dean's hair. Thumb tracing the curves of Dean's ear Sam smiled slightly, "you taste good," he murmured as his tongue swept out to curve along his bottom lip.

"I know," Dean chuckled low in his throat and kept sliding down, mapping along the skin. His tongue dipped low, tracing along the belly button and sliding down. Dean opened his mouth and pulled at Sam's flesh, bringing blood to the surface just below Sam's hipbone and marking the skin. "Bet you taste better..." he murmured, head turning to the side, lips brushing over the hard line of flesh and sucking slowly before curving along the head.

Lips parting in a small "oh," Sam's chest sank down as he let out a breath. He swallowed down a moan, lips trembling as he tried to stay silent. It was too much all at once, heat flooding through his body, his heart thawing just a little. Shoulders pushing back against the mattress - Sam's chest arched up as his hips twisting gently - chasing Dean's lips for _more_.

Tongue flicking out, Dean tasted the smear of pre-come along the slit at the top of Sam's cock. "Mm, yes, you do taste good," he smiled before letting his mouth fall open, lips circling around the swollen head and sucked down, sliding along his tongue. Dean moaned softly along the spark of sensation, enjoying the salty, musky taste along his tongue. Dean's fingers curled around Sam's cock, holding him steady to slide down the full length of him.

For once, Sam didn't feel the urge to _talk things out_ , in fact, he was pretty sure the sound that shot out of his mouth was completely incoherent. The gentle grazing of Dean's teeth, the press and slide of his tongue, pressure, heat and _fuck_. His hips rolled up sharply fingers scratching at his brother's shoulder as the sorry he tried to spit out became a moaned hiss.

A heady rush rocked through Dean, his own hips rolling down into the mattress as he felt Sam writhe beneath him. Knowing he affected his brother like this made his pace quicken, throat relaxing to suck the hard line of flesh as far in as he could. Dean's hand dipped down, fingers rolling slowly along his balls, spearing at the flesh with gentle pressure. "Sam..." he breathed along his brother’s cock, tongue sliding flat up from base to tip, and working along every inch of him before pulling him in once more.

Sam could feel his muscles ripple across his body. Pleasure began a slow twist low in his body, coiling up his spine and wisping across his skin. "This..." Sam's voice drifted away from him, taking whatever idea he'd had with it. Dean's mouth was moving gently, then rough, down along Sam's cock and bursts of sensation flew along Sam's flesh like waves of excitement. "Dean... y...you..." Words were completely failing Sam and somewhere in his lust-addled brain he was pretty sure Dean would find that amusing. He thrust up into his brother's mouth, trying to so hard to hold back just wasn't working. It was hot and felt amazing and Sam' body just had to move.

"S'okay Sam," Dean whispered and let his hands curl down and around Sam's body, cupping his ass and squeezing. Allowing his throat to relax once more. Hollowing his cheeks Dean pulled Sam deep. Sam's hips thrust up once more and Dean kept his head steady, allowed his brother to control the pace, focusing on breathing through his nose and dragging his tongue over the hard line of flesh as it moved steadily within him. This wasn't the first time Dean had done this and he centered his thoughts, mouth opening wider, and allowing Sam full access.

Thrusting up into Dean's mouth Sam felt his hips falling into a quick rhythm. He'd never felt anything quite like the way Dean's mouth and tongue moved against his flesh. His brother's tongue pulsed against the bottom of his cock and Sam's rhythm faltered; his hips snapped up and he felt himself start to fall into the heated flooding of his orgasm. Two quick thrusts and Sam's upper body curled up in a clench of muscle that shot his release deep into Dean's throat. "F..Fu..." His entire body was jolting up in time with each pulse of come, thighs trembling as his body writhed and shook.

Dean eagerly drank down everything Sam had to offer, moaning slightly as the taste coated every inch of his mouth. He sucked gently until Sam's flesh grew soft and he whimpered slightly from too much touch along his sensitive skin. Sighing softly Dean pulled away and pressed his lips into Sam's hipbone for a moment before he climbed further up, letting his forehead rest against Sam's chest, feeling the race of his heart.

"You... you're good..." Sam blew out a breath and sucked in some more, "at that." Curling his arms around his brother's neck and shoulders Sam pulled him close. "You've... uh... done that before?" Smirking, Sam rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as his heart slowed a little.

Smiling against Sam's skin Dean hummed softly, hips rolling in gentle circles down into the mattress, "yeah, once or twice." He chuckled quietly and shifted up, falling to the side and onto his back.

Sam wasn't quite as full of bravado now he was completely sober - but it wasn't like he lacked interest and enthusiasm. Rolling toward Dean he spread his fingers wide and slid his palm across Dean's abs. "You feel good, muscles..." He could feel those muscles shuddering a little under his palm and smile shyly. "You like that?"

Nodding slowly Dean let his head fall to the side to watch Sam. "I... yeah... feels good..." He swallowed thickly and twitched up into his brother's touch.

"When I was... before... when we kissed, I wanted to touch you more." Sam's eyes moved slowly from Dean's down over his chest as his hand massaged the muscles low on Dean's belly. Shifting closer Sam dropped his chin - tongue flicking out to tease Dean's already hardening nipple. Blowing across the pink flesh Sam smiled, "always thought you looked so good, hard, strong." It had never occurred to Sam before now how very _much_ he'd wanted to trace the strong lines and curves of his brother's body. Tracing that hip bone again he dropped his fingers to Dean's thigh, squeezing the muscle hard.

Dean inhaled slowly, moaning with the exhale as his body moved up continuously into Sam's touch. "I wanted more. I _was_ going to touch you. Then I hurt your foot and," he huffed slightly pressed his fingers along Sam's shoulders. "I should have told you," he murmured and promptly bit down on his tongue, forcing that line of conversation to stop before he ruined the fragile balance between them.

"Shut up or I'll have to kiss you," Sam nipped hard at Dean's nipple, hand ghosting over his brother's arousal as it moved quickly to catch the other nipple between his fingers. Pinching it hard Sam loved the way Dean’s body arched up into his touch. Leaning down he sucked the nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, nipping gently and riding the small moves of his brother's body.

"That supposed... to get me to shut up?" Dean smirked slightly and groaned quietly. "Any chance... you might... do something about my issue?" Dean huffed a laugh and dug his heels into the mattress, pushing up for more.

Sam hummed quietly, releasing Dean's nipple with a hard bite and mouthing his way wet and rough down Dean's side. "Maybe," he mumbled against his brother's ribs, tongue flicking over the bumps as he travelled down his brother's body. Throwing his leg over Dean's Sam licked along a hip bone, bearing down to suck hard on the tender flesh sheltered just below the bone. The blood pulled up to the skin, warming Sam's lips and tongue as it flicked across the sensitive skin.

"Jesus..." Dean growled and tried to roll up, unable to with the weight of Sam pressing down on him. "Sammy..." he murmured, voice thick as his fingers slid along Sam's hair, dropping down to brush along his shoulder, body twisting as much as possible.

Laughing softly Sam pulled back, fingers tracing over the mark on Dean's hip. "Should get a tattoo," he murmured then dragged his nails across the already darkening flesh. "Would look good on your... skin..." Sam's finger trailed across to his brother's cock, nail running up the vein along the bottom then tracing the curve of the head. Glancing up at Dean he smiled, watching the rapid rise and fall of his brother's chest and _knowing_ that was because of him.

Pushing up further Dean moaned and nodded shakily, "y-yeah? Maybe you... can pick something." At this point in time Dean would probably say yes to _anything_ Sam wanted as long as he kept _touching_ and did _more_. Preferably as soon as possible. "C'mon Sam, plenty of time... for teasin' later..." he grumbled, lips rolling slowly together.

Laughing Sam leaned forward to drag his tongue along Dean's hard shaft. Lapping up the pre-come he shifted, hand sliding down to rub hard over Dean's balls before his fingers slid lower, exploring his brother's body. Tilting his head he pushed up onto his elbow and sucked hard at the head of Dean's cock as he pressed his thumb just below Dean's balls. Dean's hips jolted up, almost bucking Sam off so he pulled his leg up higher pinning his brother to the bed. Opening his mouth wider Sam sucked slowly, lips sliding down his brother's cock, tongue circling the sensitive flesh.

Sparks flashed across Dean's vision and he moaned his brother's name in a low drawl, gasping with a quick inhale. The heat of Sam's mouth was even better now, in the early morning light breaking through the window and spilling across their bodies. Dean's body shook slightly as the pleasure washed through him, thighs quivering as he squirmed up and forward. The flash of pressure low on his body and Dean nearly came from that alone. "F-fuck..." he breathed, ready to spread his body as wide as possible for his brother.

Warm and musky, salty flesh, pre-come slick as it bled into Sam's mouth - Sam's heart was racing, sending his blood pulsing through his veins. Taking a deep breath Sam sank his mouth down over Dean's shaft, tongue pulsing and sliding as he swallowed to try and relax his throat. Apart from the night before - he had no experience doing it - and already knew he wasn't going to mind learning. His fingers danced over Dean's balls, squeezing gently before curling around the base of his cock and squeezing. He stroked up and down slowly, humming softly and flicking his tongue wetly over the slit.

Dean could feel his orgasm rising already and he wondered vaguely is Sam's touch was always going to affect him this quickly. For awhile at least he assumed. Dean sucked in several deep breaths, losing himself in the heat and sensation for several long moments that blurred together. As his release bubbled up, Dean tugged at Sam's hair, groaning loudly and arching up into his as it shot through him down his spine, muscles tightening in the sudden surprise of heat flaring through him.

It startled Sam at first, the change in Dean's body. His hips rocked up, muscles tightening and everywhere Sam's body touched his brother's he could feel it. Dean's cock throbbed and Sam was suddenly swallowing hot come, almost choking once then finding his rhythm. Fingers still moving along Dean's flesh Sam sucked hard, tongue lapping up every single drop of come. Dean tasted good, slightly salty - just a little bitter. When he felt his brother's flesh softening, his moans finally subsiding to just ragged breaths Sam pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up. "Okay?"

Opening his eyes slowly Dean flushed and rolled his eyes, "you think?" He laughed softly as he melted back onto the mattress, letting out a slow breath.

"You're... pretty quick off the draw there Dude." Sam grinned, crawling back up his brother's body to flop down on his chest. "Gettin' old? I hear that's the first thing to go. You know, stamina." As if to prove a point Sam rolled his already hardening cock against his brother's hip.

Smacking Sam along the back of his head Dean scoffed and glared, "no fuckin' way. It's... you know, first thing and all. Just building it up. Been too long." Dean flushed slightly and reached down to smack Sam's ass hard. "Keep up the smart assin', I'll teach you a lesson soon enough."

"Yeah?" Sam wrestled Dean's arms up above his head, "when you get all, you know, rested?" Laughing Sam sank his mouth down over his brother's and kissed him, lips parting, tongue sliding forward to thrust into his brother's mouth. Kissing Dean was pretty addictive - but then - that was no secret to Sam. One kiss years ago had been running through his mind for years.

Dean nipped at Sam's bottom lip and growled quietly into the kiss, rolling them over to press Sam down into the mattress. He plunged his tongue forward, fighting against Sam's before sweeping forward to taste himself along the panes of Sam's mouth. He rocked down into Sam until he could feel the full hard flesh before pulling back and smirking. "Gonna shower," Dean jumped back off the bed, padding toward the bathroom and stopping when his hand curled around the frame, looking over his shoulder, "you gonna come?"

Sam scrambled off the bed and knocked Dean out of the way to get into the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

The wood splintered slightly beneath Dean as he shifted on the picnic table, curling his fingers tight around each beer bottle. From where he sat he could see out past the cliff, rows of trees planted along the hills. Dean's eyes followed the trail of a bird along the sky line, eyes dropping to the side momentarily to catch his brother walking out from the patch of woods on the other side of the car. As he Sam approached Dean offered the extra bottle of beer and shifted on the table to make room for him. "Thought we could use a longer break," Dean shrugged and rolled his shoulders slowly, stretching the tense muscles. "Can't even see the scars from blisters now," Dean pointed out, using the bottom of his beer bottle to gesture toward Sam's hands.

Sitting back onto the top of the picnic table Sam looked down at his hands, turning them slightly then lifting the beer to his lips for a few quick swallows. "You took good care of me." Smiling he leaned over to press their shoulder's together. "We could take a few days off you know - if you're tired." Sam nodded to himself, thoughts drifting back over the massive number of hunts they'd managed to squeeze in to the previous six months. "I'm tired," tilting his head slightly he angled his chin up so he could see Dean's face. "I know sometimes, I'm kind of like a dog with a bone... with... you know." They'd had a fair few fights about Sam's obsession with finding whatever had killed Jess. They weren't any closer but they'd ruled out some things. There were times when Sam felt like he couldn't settle at all, had to keep moving, always be finding the next hunt.

Glancing over at his brother for a long moment Dean nodded and dropped his gaze, wrapping his lips around the top of the bottle and taking a long drink. Sometimes, like now, Dean still felt at loss for what to say. He was for the most part pleased with how things were progressing, but it was hard and it had been a _long_ road to even get to this point, where Dean didn't feel like he had to sort through every possible response, just to ensure what he said next wasn't going to set Sam off. Sometimes they clashed so hard Dean didn't think they'd get through it. "Couple days off... we should. Don't have any leads right now anyway," Dean shrugged and slid his leg to the side until his knee rested against Sam's. "I wish... you know... that I had more to offer... more places to look," Dean sighed softly and rubbed along the back of his neck with his free hand.

Nodding, Sam dropped his head a little and stared down at the bottle in his hands. "S'a little crazy I know but I still," he shook his head, hair falling forward from behind his ears. "I still want to make it right, somehow." Sam wasn't naive - that had been beat out of him a long time back. There was no bringing anyone back, no way the emptiness in his heart for Jess would ever completely disappear. But. It had already become easier to live with. He still missed her. His heart still ached sometimes when he thought about the life they'd shared for such a short period of time. Even now, months after his body had finally let go of some of the physical memories of the night - he would sometimes wake from nightmares - still able to feel the heat of flames snarling down at him from the ceiling. Leaving Dean alone was something Sam had learned to hate. He knew it drove his brother a little crazy. One step at a time. "You know how-" blowing out a breath Sam almost changed his mind about talking and took another swig of beer. "I've been kind of... clingy... you know?"

Lip quirking up slightly, Dean nodded slowly and chuckled, "yeah, I may have noticed." Sometimes Sam clung to him so tightly it terrified Dean. Like maybe there was something just under the surface and it was threatening to pull Sam down. Mostly though, Dean didn't mind, no matter how many times he shifted against the touch or rolled his eyes, Dean was nearly always comforted by it. "What about it?" He asked curiously, sipping from the bottle slowly.

"I keep thinking..." Sam chewed on his bottom lips for a few moments then looked out over the landscapes in front of them. "I worry that... I'll walk into a motel room one day... and see..." his voice trembled a little and Sam looked off the side quickly, hiding his fear. "I can't find you like that." He shook his head and squinted up into the sunlight. "I just... I figure if I'm always with you... you know?" Swallowing, Sam huffed out a nervous laugh and ducked his head down so his face was hidden behind his hair again.

Dean's stomach churned unpleasantly and he shifted closer to Sam, wrapping an arm low around his body. "That's not gonna be me Sam, I promise. I... if that thing comes to get me at any time... I'll figure out how to kill it," Dean nodded swiftly and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder. "But... if it makes you feel better... I don't mind. I... I like it, believe it or not," Dean chuckled softly and let his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

"Yeah," Sam sighted, "okay, I know ... it's just always there ya know?" He'd grown used to these moments, when Dean rested against him. At first they'd been hesitant, touches confined more often than not to bed, or behind the closed doors of a motel room. Slowly, things had changed. They stopped worry as much about starting a fight, or hurting each other and began to just settle to the way things were. Turning into Dean's hair Sam pressed his lips there quickly. "Keep hoping it'll go away." Sam turned his gaze back to the horizon.

Sighing quietly Dean nodded, "yeah, me too." There were times, Dean tried not to dwell in them, when Dean worried he only be _just enough_ for Sam. Too often Dean had to reassure himself that things were heading toward a better place constantly. He knew, at this moment, he felt more for his brother than Sam felt for him. It was different, there was no one in Dean's heart that he mourned, and Dean had long since adjusted to the times he could _feel_ Sam thinking about the loss he'd suffered. "Where do you want to go? For our mini-vacation?" he asked quietly.

"Somewhere... that you want to see." Sam shifted and switched his beer to his right hand so he could slip his hand over his brother's thigh. "There must be somewhere you've wanted to see, maybe some place you want to go back to?" Sam's thumb dragged along the seam down the side of his brother's jeans.

Legs shifting open almost automatically Dean's shoulders rolled back as he leaned back on his hands. "You know me, I'm easily pleased," he chuckled softly and brought one hand forward until his fingers could brush just under the hem of Sam's shirt, above his jeans. "Somewhere warm. Quiet," he shrugged slightly and let his eyes sweep the landscape once more.

Smiling Sam took another pull on his beer bottle. "I liked when we were at the ocean." With the obvious exception of _why_ they'd been at the oceanside cabin - it had been beautiful. "I like being somewhere we can't hear all the city noise. Makes it easier." He sighed, tugging his shirt up subtly and hoping Dean didn't notice. He just liked his brother's touch on his skin.

"Still have that couple's number... could call and see if their friend could spare the cabin for the weekend," Dean said softly and pressed his hand forward, flattening his fingers along the bottom of Sam's spine. "Or we could find some other place along the shore, the ocean is... nice," he nodded and smiled at Sam, chuckling with a shrug. "Yeah, I'm poetic I know."

Sam stiffened a little. "Different place - do you mind? Forward," he shrugged, "not back." What he really wanted was a place for him to just spend time with Dean, get to know his brother better, work on being _them_.

"Yeah no problem," Dean nodded, not really needing to ask why. Dean's fingers slid along the soft expanse of Sam's back and he pushed up enough to press his forehead to Sam's shoulder, arm looping around his back. He squeezed tightly, breathing him in for a long moment before slowly sliding back. "Sorry," he mumbled and shrugged, arms folding over his thighs. "Sappy I know."

Laughing softly, Sam playfully pushed his brother and set his bottle down on the table. He stretched his arms up high above his head. "Maybe," he said, "we should just do what we do best and just drive till we hit the ocean." They were good at driving, traveling, leaving things behind them. Sam was just now starting to realize though that they had been heading toward each other for a while.

Pushing up to his feet Dean grabbed the bottle and drained it, wiping the back of his arm across his mouth. He walked over to toss it in the can by the edge of the table. "Works for me," he nodded and stuffed his hands in his pocket, rolling his shoulders, "you wanna drive for awhile? I could use a nap, _someone_ kept me up last night." He half smirked at Sam, rocking back on his heels as he watched Sam.

"Hey," Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's sleeve, tugging him forward until he was nestled in the V of Sam's legs. "You know... that... I love you." Sam blinked up at Dean, watching his brother's face for a few moments.

Wrapping a hand low along the back of Sam's neck, Dean nodded, small smile on his lips, "yeah Sam. I love you too." He dipped in to press a small kiss to Sam's temple, squeezing his fingers gently.

Dropping his forehead to his brother's shoulder, Sam smiled. "I mean, I love you... the way that you love me. I don't think you know that." His fingers curled over Dean's waist and he sighed.

Sighing softly Dean stared over Sam's shoulder out at the sweep of trees, fingers massaging gently along his skin. "That... it's good to hear. Thank you," he chuckled softly and let his head fall after a moment to press his lips to the top of Sam's head.

Shaking his head Sam laughed and sat back punching Dean's shoulder. "Let's drive."


End file.
